The Eagle and The Dove
by pentello
Summary: When Katia Robin, a young Englishwoman with an Assassin mother and banker father, is thrust into the world she had never wanted, she begins to see things through a new pair of eyes. Follow the young girl and a certain Master Assassin in an epic story of self-discovery, betrayal, love—and just a tad bit of Girl Power.
1. Prologue

Prologue:

* * *

The red–robed Assasin hunkered low on the rooftops as it watched the pink–faced, panting man below run. His name was Azith Al–Ihim, and was convicted of a crime that was punishable by death. He was a traitor to the British Brotherhood. A new enemy. He needed to be destroyed.

The Assassin kept up with the staggering man easily, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, the dagger in its hand gleaming in the moonlight like teeth on a shark. Azith, the old man, who's eyes had seen too many years and deaths, yet was still afraid of his own end, zigzagged through the streets and alleyways, hoping to lose his pursuer. The Assassin kept pace easily, straying from the light of the lamps, and chose its first moment to strike very cautiously. The Assassin didn't want to cause any attention to itself whatsoever, and it waited patiently for there to be an opening in which it could strike.

After a few mere moments of waiting and debating, the Assassin finally chose to strike when Azith, whom was growing tiresome of running, slowed his pace as he neared a dark alleyway, his hand going to his chest as he sucked in breaths.

The Assassin, as silent and as graceful as a cat, descended from the roof in which it had been perched and waited, it's back pressed tightly against the wall, for the man to near. The Assassin heard his breathing before it heard his steps, and a moment later, when the man had gotten close enough, it spun, yanked Azith by his collar, twisted, and slammed him against the wall it had been waiting against. All in a swift, silent movement that was too quick for the old man to scream.

As the Assassin brought its dagger to the man's throat, Azith staggered and cried, "Have mercy, my friend, have mercy! I beg of you!"

"There shall never be mercy to men who betray their brothers and sisters for coin," snarled the red–robed Assassin, startling the man by the sound of the Assassin's voice. It seemed too feminine and soft to be that of a man.

"You're a woman?" At this, the man's voice hitched, as if he had found a loophole. He stared at the woman Assassin, a scared but sure smile gracing his old features. "Oh, God. Please, madam, I can pay you as much as you desire—"

"Don't try playing tricks, old man," snapped the woman harshly, pushing the blade against his throat so hard that blood was drawn. The man begun to cry.

"Please, I beg of you," he sobbed, becoming a truly pitiful state. "I have children, and a wife—"

"You should have thought of them before you betrayed us."

"But you don't understand! I needed the money! The Templars would've killed me!"

"You, of all people, should have known that the Assassins could have offered all the protection you would need."

Azith growled. "For how long, though? How long would I have been considered a friend–in–need, before I become a burden to them? They would have become sloppy and lazy with their so called "protection" and before you know it, I would be dead!" He raised a trembling finger to the woman. "I've seen it enough times to know, child. It took me eighty years to see."

The woman, only slightly phased by his words, sneered. "You betrayed your family," she whispered, and with that, the woman slid her blade cleanly and expertly across his throat, catching him as he sagged down the wall. His sobs were cut short, replaced with the sickening sound of gurgling blood, before he fell silent forever. The Assassin propped him against the wall, bending down on one knee as she peered at him through the thin slit in her mask that showed her eyes.

"Rest in peace," she whispered, reaching out and closing his unseeing eyes, before standing up and wiping her blade across Azith's jacket for cleaning.

"Elizabeth."

The voice came from behind her, and the woman would have jumped in a defensive stance had she not have recognised the voice as her husband's. She turned, a smile gracing her face despite her mask, and set her eyes upon her beloved.

"As always, you remain the only person to ever be able to sneak up on me," she said, her voice slightly muffled over her mouthpiece. "Though, how you do it, I shall never know."

The man before her—Charles Robin, his name was—smiled and strode towards his wife, his eyes only glancing to the body on the wall once, before taking her face in between his hands.

"Are you alright, dear?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. "Any injuries? Scratches?"

Elizabeth smiled and kissed his palm as it slid over her cheek. "I am fine, Charles," she told him, before looking at her husband more urgently. "Our daughter. Is she...?"

"Coletta is asleep," said Charles, only half–answering her unspoken question. Elizabeth frowned.

"But is she well, my love? Is she getting better? Stronger?"

"I am afraid she is..." Charles broke off with a sigh, and started again. "She hasn't improved since the last time you saw her, Beth. She is still dreadfully weak."

Elizabeth felt her heart clench at the sound of that. Their only child, only a little girl, suffering at the hands of a sickness that even the finest doctors know nothing of. How many times had the pair woken to their child's cries? How many times had Elizabeth been forced away on missions, despite her longing to stay home and care for her daughter? How many prayers had she prayed to the Man Above for her daughter?

Too many to count, was the answer.

"Beth, there is another thing." Her husband interrupted her thoughts, and the red–robed woman turned to him.

"What is it, Charles?"

"The doctor..." Charles looked to be in visible pain as he spoke the next words: "The doctor said that she may not last the week."

Elizabeth's blood ran cold, and she suddenly felt that she could probably slay a hundred more of the Brotherhood's traitors, if only to release the anger and sorrow in her heart. She looked at her husband, the man whom she loved so dearly, and saw his cheeks become wet. It caused her own tears to fall, and she lunged towards him to catch him in an embrace in which neither knew who was comforting whom, only that they had to hold each other in order not to break.

Her tears hit her husband's jacket like bullets, feeling her heart grow heavier and heavier by the second. Her precious child—their precious child!—leaving them so soon. Before even her 8th birthday. Before even the next Christmas.

The banker husband and Assassin wife held each other close, scared to death of the risks of letting each other go. The wife sobbed into her husband's chest as the husband whispered soothing nonsense into her ear, both wanting to believe the him.

Three days later, they lost their little girl.

* * *

 **[A\N: Hey guys! So this is my first Assassin's Creed story that I have ever posted up, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it. I'll admit, I don't really have the exact details of the story down, and on some parts I will just write free-hand whatever comes to mind (though you won't know what parts they are, so I guess thats good), and I hope you all enjoy!**

 **By the way, I am so sorry for this being so short, but it _is_ only the prologue. I have never written an AltairXOC before, so this is my first time, so I am sorry if I have errors and whatnot in this concerning Altair and whatever. **

**OH, AND BY THE WAY, _pleeeease_ do not expect this story to follow along with the actual book or Assassin's Creed game! There will be quite a few minor changes, and many, well, _bigger_ changes to the storyline, but I hope you give (if not me, then) this story a chance! **

**Thank you!]**


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

"Setting Sails"

* * *

The silence of her mother as she sat in front of the warm fire was nothing new to Katia Robin. Her mother did it quite often, and though sometimes it concerned her (for her mother would often be so still that her daughter would question whether she was even breathing), Katia knew to say nothing of it and allow her mother to stay in her small, quiet world as she stared at the jumping flames before her. She knew better than to disturb her when she was like this.

Though, Katia was called upon her mother to meet her in the drawing room, so she guessed she should _maybe_ clear her throat to her mother at least. Not to be rude, of course, but simply as an indication that she was there, standing uneasily in the doorway, waiting for her mother to notice her. Her mother rarely called a meeting with Katia, and when she did, it had always been about something important. Or bad. Or both.

That fact only fuelled Katia's uneasiness.

Finally, when she realised that her mother wasn't going to look up from the flames and acknowledge her any time soon, the young girl decided to tap lightly on the door beside her, clearing her throat. Her mother snapped out of her thoughts, blinking, before looking up and noticing her daughter, a smile gracing her face as if looking at her for the first time.

"Oh, my pretty girl, come in, come in," her mother cooed, swishing her dark brown skirts about her in her seat. Katia obliged and walked into the room, her red head down, and took a seat on the cushion nearest the fire.

"You called on me, Marmee?" she said curiously, and looked around the room and noticing the lack of one figure in particular. "But where is Father? Is he away?"

Her mother smiled gently and reached out to stroke the curls upon her daughters head. Elizabeth was still a beautiful woman, despite her age, and Katia often hoped that she would age as graceful as her mother. "Father is with a business gentleman, dear, and will be back shortly tonight." Elizabeth sighed and looked at her daughter more seriously. "Dear, I wish to speak to you about something," she said gently. "It is very important. I urge you to listen carefully, and stay open–minded. And, please, do not lash out before I explain, my dear." At this, Katia's face fell, and her chest tightened in anticipation. What was her mother going to tell her? Was it bad?

"What is it, Mother?" the young girl asked cautiously. "Please do not hesitate in telling me. I am seventeen, Marmee, I can handle it." Though, a thought came to her mind, and it made her a little bit sick. "Is it...the matter of marriage?"

But her mother shook her head, her hair net lightly bouncing. "No, my sweet. It isn't marriage." Sighing a deep breath, her mother took the girl's hand between her's. "It is the matter of...you going away. Please, listen to my explanation before you—"

"Going away?" Katia interrupted, her stomach dropping. This was worse than marriage. "But, mother, if this is a matter of your—your work—then you shan't allow it to separate us! I—"

"Katia, child, listen to me, please." Her mother wore a pained expression, her blue eyes darkening with sadness. "This is not only a matter of my work, but of yours, too. You are aware of what it is I do, are you not?"

"You're an Assassin," said Katia duly. "But I don't understand—How is you being an Assassin making me be sent away?"

"I have made enemies, Katia," her mother said, her eyes pleading Katia to understand. "Incredibly powerful enemies, who have threatened to—to hurt you, to get to me. Please, child, it is best to send you away, so that when they do come looking here—and they will, I know it—you will be long gone. Far, far away."

Katia knew she ought to be scared. There were people out coming to get her specifically, and if it made her mother scared then surely she should be one hundred times more so, but the only thing running through her head was the "Far, far away" part of her mother's story. Just how far was she going?

"But—But where are you sending me?" asked Katia, her voice smaller than it had ever been. She had a grave feeling that she would not like the answer.

"I am sending you to Syria, my child. You are to be sent to Masyaf, and trained to be like me, an Assassin warrior, with the Levantine Brotherhood." She gave a weak smile. "You have every right to hate me for this, but you will still go. It's final, and not up for discussion."

Katia was enraged. How dare her mother do this to her? She, of all people, knew that Katia had never been anywhere without her mother or father beside her, and now she wanted to send her to Syria? And now, out of nowhere, she was supposed to train there, too? Who said she even wanted to be an Assassin? And besides, she didn't even know where Syria was!

"I shall not go!" Katia yelled, narrowing her eyes stubbornly at her mother, who looked at her as if she had expected this reaction. It only annoyed Katia even more. "Mother, you must be mad! I don't want to be an Assassin! I—I would rather be married!" Which was true.

But her mother was having none of it. "Fight this all you want, Katia, but you are going, and that is the end of it. Tell me, why don't you want to be an Assassin? The women in your family have been apart of the British Brotherhood for generations!"

"The British Brotherhood, mother!" exclaimed Katia, her cheeks flushed. "I would assume that the Levan...the Levantee..."

"The Levantine, dear," her mother helped.

"The Levantine Brotherhood would be different! What if I am bullied by the men, or worse, assaulted even, for being there! Women are hardly accepted in society today, imagine what it would be like, thrusting me into the unknown!"

"You will either sink or swim, Katia. You choose." Her mother looked at the young girl coldly, and that look alone was enough to make the red–head falter. "If it troubles you so much, we can postpone your training until you get back, but you will still go to Masyaf. You can't get out of that."

Katia huffed childishly, but knew that it was pointless. Her mother was the most stubborn (and bosiest) person she had ever met, and when she had her mind set on something, it was always accomplished. No matter the cost, she got done what had to be done.

Maybe that's why she has so many enemies, Katia thought privately, but then flushed and scolded herself harshly. She was never one to think ill of her mother, for Elizabeth was also the strongest person she had ever known. If Katia could grow into even half the woman her mother is, she would be glad.

"B-But..." Katia could feel her lip tremble at the thought of going away. Syria seemed so far away, it was like another world. "How long will I be gone, Mother? Will I have to go...entirely by myself?"

Elizabeth's face softened at her daughter's frightened tone, and bent down to reach for her. "What kind of mother would I be if I sent my precious girl to an unknown land by herself? You shall have an escort, one of the best and my most trusted fighter. His name is William Nornan. Only a few years older than you." She smiled, only a little bit. "As for your amount of time there, it will be a little while. Probably a couple of months, at the least. Though I will send word straight away if it's safe enough for you to be back sooner."

And Katia tried to find comfort in that, but she struggled so much that she gave up. The decision was final. She was going to be sent to Syria—wherever that was—and was to be kept in the protection of the Brotherhood there. She felt her insides tremble at the thought of being surrounded by men wearing weapons who crept around in the dark killing people, but took a deep breath to calm herself. She was her mother's daughter, after all. She wouldn't be phased by any man.

She would make the _men_ fear _her_.

* * *

The next morning, Katia woke before sunrise. She was told that the travel was long and would be hard, and that she was to wear trousers—trousers!—like a man, and riding boots, as well as a scarf to cover her hair and face. Her mother had warned her of bandits, and the thought of them frightened her more than anything. Though, once she was assured and reminded that there would be an Assassin escort for her every step of the way, her mind was eased, if only a little. After all, this Assassin must have slain hundreds of bandits in his past!

She was told beforehand that she wasn't to bring any luggage with her, and all the money and food they needed was going to be provided by the Assassin escort. All Katia was to bring was herself.

Katia dressed with haste, the lady maid of the house helping her strap strange things to her body without question. Her name was Gretel, and had apparently been helping her mother out with "Assassin business" for years, and knew her way around the strange clothing very well. Katia's legs felt odd, but comfortable, in the black pants, and her feet felt even odder in the knee–high boots that went outside of the trousers. What felt strange of all, though, was the black scarf wrapped around her head and face to conceal her hair and, as Gretel had said, "To hide yer face that is too pretty to be passed as a lad." Katia felt a tad bit suffocated inside the scarf, but as soon as Gretel adjusted it correctly, she could breath a little more comfortably.

Once a jacket was thrown over her, and she looked every bit the boy she was supposed to look, Katia turned and thanked the maid. "You did a wonderful job, Gretel," she said, smiling, causing the maid to blush.

"Oh, it were hard work, ma'am, lemme tell you that," the maid chuckled. "I mean that of no offence, mind me. It's just yer so pre'y, Miss." Katia smiled and embraced the maid.

"Thank you, Gretel," she said, and the girls broke apart. Katia made her way downstairs, where her mother and father were waiting. She embraced her mother, who wore a very strong front, and then her father, who missed her temple and whispered, "I would go with you if I could, Katia. But I can't. I must make sure your mother stays out of trouble." They pulled apart, Katia a little teary eyed, and smiled at her father.

"Katia." It was the deep, feminine voice of her mother. Katia turned towards the middle–aged woman and saw that she was holding a fancy box with intricate designs out to her. Curiously, Katia took the box from her mother's hands.

"What is it, Mother? A gift?"

"Of sorts," answered the older woman. "It's a family heirloom, my girl. It has been passed down to the first child of every generation in my family. I hope you pass it down to your firstborn, also."

Katia, her fingers itching to open the box, smiled gratefully at her mother and, after a deep breath, opened the box. Inside, sitting peacefully atop of the soft velvet material, was the most beautiful dagger she had ever seen. With a long, golden arched blade, thousands of little silver designs were made into it that fit the whole length of the blade. There was no sign of it ever being used, but Katia guessed that the blade was bound to have been used during the generations. She touched the blade carefully, and found that there were indeed small signs of its use around the sharp end, and she wondered, absentmindedly, how many lives this blade had taken.

Katia shivered, but managed a large smile for her parents. She embraced her mother. "Thank you, Marmee," she whispered.

Elizabeth patted her child's head softly. "I hope you don't have to use it, but just in case," she said. Katia nodded in understanding at her mother before her mother took the blade out of the box. "This will be right here," she said, placing the sheathed blade inside a secret pocket inside Katia's jacket. "I never want you to part with this, Katia. If it's not inside this pocket, it's in your hand, understand?"

Quickly, Katia nodded, causing a light chuckle from her father. He embraced his daughter one last time before grabbing his wife's hand. The two lead their daughter out of the manor with heavy hearts, and Katia could feel the heaviness in her very bones as they closed the large, oak door behind them.

Two black horses were waiting outside, and sitting atop one of them, a top hat on his head and dressed every part of a young gentleman, was a handsome young man with a light skip in his step as he approached them. He was tall, and Katia assumed that this was the Assassin named William.

He took her small hand in his, and gently kissed her knuckles. He had quite a sweet face, Katia acknowledged shyly. He was all tan skin, black hair and dark eyes. High cheekbones and a strong jaw, with curling hair that was getting long but didn't quite need a trim yet. He had broad shoulders and a tough chest. Quite a striking set of features.

"You must be Miss Katia Robin," he said, planting his lips on her knuckles before straightening and looking at her kindly. "I had heard of the beauty in which you had, though I am disappointed that I can't see it at this moment, for your scarf is covering yourself."

Katia blushed under the scarf at the compliment and had to suppress a giggle. "You must be Mr Nornan," she said. He smile charmingly at her, nodding, before looking over her head to Katia's parents.

"Sir. Madam," he said, nodding in acknowledgment and respect. Charles shook hands with the bouncy young man and soon, Katia was lead onto one of the tall, strong stallions by William. She was frightened of the beast, but with help from the Assassin and a small smile from her mother, she took a deep breath and allowed William to help her mount her horse. The beast lightly nickered underneath her, which caused the girl to tense, but then she shook the fears away. She had ridden a pony before, after all. Why was this horse any different?

She blanked out of the real world and became lost in her emotions as her mother began talking to William. Katia didn't know how to feel. She was being sent away by her parents to a place she had never even heard of, and though she wanted to be angry, she didn't quite feel it anymore. She knew their reasons, and couldn't fight them for it. Of course, perhaps her parents should have told her of this sooner, but alas, it was done, and she couldn't change anything now.

She heard a low mumbling at her side, and blocked out the stern and quiet voice of her mother and light laugh of William. And that was another thing. How could her mother not inform Katia of how handsome the certain young man was? It was shocking, and Katia expected that the young man knew it, too. Why else would he have smiled in such a knowing, almost smug way before?

Ah, but one would have to be blind to not know how handsome he was.

A few minutes went by, though it only felt like a mere seconds, before William mounted his own horse and walked it next to her own. "Say goodbye now, Miss Robin, for we are leaving now."

Katia felt her eyes water again, but willed herself not to cry in front of the Assassin, before turning and waving to her mother. Elizabeth waved back once, and her father strode towards her horse to grasp her knee. "Be safe, my darling," he said quietly into the cold, dark air. Katia nodded before Charles looked at the Assassin.

"Look after her, boy," he said coldly, causing the Assassin to slightly flush.

"With my life," he responded, blinking. Katia almost giggled. "Are you ready?" asked William to Katia. "Shall we be off now?"

With a final nod, Katia turned away from her parents and beckoned her horse into a slow trot. She didn't want to look back over her shoulder, for she feared that if she did, her strong façade would crack, so she kept a straight face and her head forward.

They trotted slowly next to each other, neither the Assassin nor her speaking first. She found it slightly awkward at first, but then appreciated it when she found herself become lost in her thoughts once more. Where _was_ Syria? Her father had told her that it would take at least one day by boat, and another three by horse. She hated the thought of being on a boat, for the endless, terrifying possible disasters that could occur on the ocean made her stomach sick.

So, Syria was a whole new _country_ , then?

Katia found herself sighing as they rode through the main streets. The sun still wasn't risen yet, for the hour was still early, and Katia found her eyelids become slightly heavy. Every now and again, she felt her hand reach into her jacket and clasp around the hold of the dagger. She wondered, absently, what it was like to take a life, and that if she'd be able to do it if it ever came down to that. She thought she would never be able to. She wasn't a killer, nor was she an Assassin. To take another person's life would be...

Well, she'd be sent straight to hell, that's for sure.

Katia thought of her mother then. Of her mother's gentle but rough hands as she used to plait her hair when she was just a child, but of those same hands wielding a knife to end someone else's life. She couldn't see her mother as a killer, for she was one of the gentlest people she knew. Elizabeth was an Assassin, of course, and she had probably ended more lives than Katia would like to know, but at the end of the day, her mother was still her mother, and she only killed those who were a danger to others. Katia didn't exactly understand her mother's job, but she knew enough to know that her mother would never take an innocent's life.

A sudden thought came to her head, and Katia turned her head toward the Assassin by her side. "Mr Nornan, may I inquire to know how you became acquainted to my mother?"

The Assassin turned to look at her kindly, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips. "Of course, Miss," he said, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. "I was a child when I met Mrs Robin, and had been living alone on the streets, for my parents had died in a house fire and no one would take me in." Katia looked at the young man, her heart going out to him, but he only continued. "I met her one night when I was caught in the act of stealing her purse. I had run away, but was eventually caught by her, and I had to cough up the purse.

"I thought she was going to punish me, to hand me over to the authorities, but your mother surprised me by showing nothing but kindness. She was impressed by my skills, she told me, and she gave me a choice: I could either live a short life on the streets as a thief, or I could be taken under her wing as her apprentice. Obviously, I chose the latter. A year later, I became a Novice Assassin, and then three years after that, I was ranked a soldier. And now, I am an Assassin, third rank."

Katia smiled. "I see," she said quietly. "Is that why you are doing this job for her, then? Because you wish to be ranked higher?"

The Assassin smiled and shook his head. "If your mother hadn't of brought me under her wing, I would most likely be dead right now," he said evenly. "I am not only Mrs Robin's apprentice, but I also owe her a life debt. I _owe_ it to her to take care of her daughter, even if it takes my life."

Katia's cheeks flushed. "Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that, shall we?" But her heart was touched, if only a little, and made the rest of the ride to the docks easier. She smelt the dirty water before she was able to see the tall masts and flags in the dark sky, and the young girl wrinkled her nose despite her scarf covering her nose. The pair dismounted their horses and dropped them off at the nearby stable before making their way along the smelly docks, William carrying a single bag which Katia guessed held food and water. She wondered where he kept his weapons, for she couldn't see any on him, save for the pretty sword at his side. She didn't even see any wrist blade on his person upon her curious inspection.

They made their way, side–by–side, towards a certain ship. It was large, as ships were, but still blended in with the other ships around it, having nothing but the King's flag as it flew in the wind standing out. They stopped at the edge of the pier in front of a tall, grubby man, whom held a bottle in one hand and a small knife in the other.

"Captain Hathaway," voiced William, causing the man to look up in surprise. As his eyes settled on the pair (Katia noticed the man had a large scar across his left eye) a smile was brought to his face and he stood up, hastily shaking hands with William.

"My dear boy! How long it's been since we last met." His voice was low and gruff, but he seemed genuinely happy to see William. He then looked at Katia, and a knowing look came upon his face. "You must be the lovely Katia," he said, bowing a little awkwardly. "I am Captain Haytham Hathaway, pleased to be of service."

"Charmed," said Katia, extending her head towards the man in acknowledgment. They boarded the ship quickly (her mother had paid the man in advance) all the while the Captain barking orders to the ship crew. He had told her that it would be wise of her not to take her scarf off unless she was safely in her cabin below deck, and not to interact with any of the men, for many were dreadfully skittish about a woman being on board.

Katia had agreed and followed the Captain's advice, and promised him that she wouldn't leave her cabin unless he or the Assassin was with her. She was happy to stay in her cabin, anyway, for it gave her a lot of time to think.

It had turned out that Katia's mother had given William strict orders to stay with her at all times, and so the two shared a cabin. Of course, it was incredibly strange for Katia, and though she knew it was necessary, she found herself often blushing behind closed doors when the Assassin was with her. Especially when she had taken off the scarf, and William had openly gawked at her face before clearing his throat and leaving above deck to talk to the Captain. Katia had blushed wickedly after that, and decided to calm her ego by laying on the tough cot and taking the blade out.

She stared at it and sighed, running her fingers along the blade whilst being careful not to cut herself. She truly found the golden blade to be beautiful but not just in looks. When she held the blade firmly by the hilt, she thought of all the people before her whom had held that same hilt and used it for different reasons. She knew it was silly, but she couldn't help feeling closer to her mother by holding the dagger and just admiring it.

Katia sighed and placed the dagger back into its sheath. "I'll be strong for you, Mother," she whispered, before turning to drape her scarf back over her head and face so that only her eyes were shown before she headed above deck. Katia was greeted by a fresh sea breeze and loud yells and shouts by the crew as they walked and were tossed about while they worked. She felt a sick feeling come in her stomach as the ship rocked beneath her, and quickly looked for the familiar navy blue jacket of William. She spotted him near the Captain's cabin, lounging against the door talking to the Captain himself. Hastily, Katia made her way towards him.

"Miss Robin," William said in surprise when he noticed her. He gave her a small smile. "Is anything wrong?"

"I do hope the cabin is to your liking, Little Miss," added the Captain, taking his hat off under the glaring sun. It was midday, and already hot. Katia knew for sure they weren't in London anymore, for London was _never_ this hot.

"It is indeed, Captain, thank you," answered Katia kindly before turning back to William. "I was wondering, how much longer will this sea adventure take? I don't—I don't feel well." Katia was sure she was turning a little green as the sea swished beneath her.

Before the Assassin could answer, the Captain laughed. "Ah, the infamous sea illness!" he chuckled. "Most landlubbers suffer from that. This must be your first time by ship!" Katia nodded, and felt her head and stomach swim. She caught onto the Assassin's arm, startling him, as she felt her head grow dizzy.

"Miss Robin, calm down," said William, but his voice was lost as she felt sweat trickle down her spine. The sun was too hot, the ground too shaky, and that Goddamned scarf atop of Katia's head was only making matters worse! She felt suffocated.

Blinking and keeping control of her breathing, Katia pushed herself off of the Assassin and all but ripped the scarf off before tossing it over the edge and into the ocean. _Damn the men that were "skittish" about a woman being on board_ , she thought angrily as she leaned over the edge of the ship, taking deep, long breaths.

A small voice came at her shoulder and a hand came upon her back. "Miss Robin, I believe you should stay below deck," said William advised, taking notice of the men about them glaring and looking at Katia in disbelief. Annoyed, Katia threw glares right back at them before replying.

"It's too claustrophobic down there. I prefer being here, out in the open air."

"Indeed, Miss, but—"

"You may cease calling me 'Miss,' from now on, Mr Nornan," interrupted the young girl as she closed her eyes, enjoying the open breeze between her red strands of hair. "I give permission to you to call me by my Christian name."

"Uh...thank you, Katia," the Assassin mumbled, before placing a hand on her shoulder in an urging manner. "I must advise against you staying above deck. The men here... They are not fond of any woman coming above deck. They believe it to be bad luck."

"How much longer are we staying at sea?" asked Katia, ignoring everything the Assassin had just said, much to his irritation. She almost cracked a smile. She may be _kind_ , but she was just as stubborn as her mother, and the Assassin had to know that.

"Until tomorrow morning, at least," answered the young man, clearly annoyed but too kind to show it. Katia nodded and took in another deep breath. Sure, she was afraid of the ocean, but she had to admit that there was just something beautiful and refreshing about breathing in the nice, unpolluted air.

"I believe that I will stay above deck a little while longer," she said, and quickly continued before William could interrupt her. " _But_ , if it truly troubles you, then I will eat dinner in my cabin and stay there until we dock again." William's shoulders visibly sagged in slight relief, and Katia smiled kindly at him before looking back out to sea, her long hair flying behind her in the breeze.

She felt she had to prepare for when they docked again. She would be in an entirely new country, after all, and although the thought scared her, it also had an exciting ring to it. This would be an experience, she thought, that would stay with her forever.

* * *

 **[A\N: First chapter, done! Sorry that not much happened in this chapter, but it _is_ only the first chapter, and I mostly focused it around Katia. How do you like the young girl, anyway? Please, share your thoughts with me, whether they are good or negative! Hopefully you like the fact that she is a generally sweet girl, but once tipped off... Well, she gets feisty. Just like her mother.**

 **Next chapter, they will be in Syria, and things will start kind of speeding up. A little bit. Maybe. Depends on how I'm feeling.**

 **Anyways, please review and tell me what you think. I don't want to be the girl that begs for reviews, but because this is the first chapter, I really do wish to know what you guys think! Once again, thank you for clicking on my story!]**


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

"A Bad Navigator and Unlikely Friends"

* * *

"Are we almost there?"

"Not even close."

"But we have been travelling for hours! My legs are sore."

"We have been travelling for an hour, Katia. Plus we stopped for a twenty minute break."

"Tell that to my legs that feel like falling off!"

"You're being dramatic."

"No!"

"Yes, you are."

"My thighs are killing me."

"Then get off your horse and walk for a bit."

"But then my feet are going to start killing me!"

The Assassin tipped his head back, looked above at the sky, and groaned as if in pain. He gripped the reins of his new horse tightly between his fingers, and the young girl whom had been complaining looked at him with a bored expression.

"Something wrong?"

William looked over at her under his hat, his dark eyes irritated. "Must you keep complaining?" he muttered though his teeth, causing the young girl to almost snicker.

"Why? Is it annoying?"

" _Immensely_."

Katia threw the man a smile. "Get used to it, Sir," she said cheekily, ignoring the numbing feeling she was beginning to feel in her thigh. Her own horse was a pretty brown with white patches and long white hair, and though it was lovely to look at, Katia found herself groan at the horse. Must her stomach be so _wide_? "There's a lot more where that came from."

The Assassin groaned again, this time seemingly just for arguments sake, and then looked ahead. "We have just arrived in Syria, Katia. Once we find the nearest town, we will stop there and resupply as well as rest properly. But until then—" Katia grimaced, already knowing what he was going to say "—we must ride. It will take about two more days to get to Masyaf, so I suggest you get used to the feeling of travelling by horse."

"If only this was a bad dream that I could just wake up from," the girl mumbled in distaste, rubbing the back of her neck to stop the beads of sweat. She wished she had thought to bring a band, or at least a ribbon, to tie her long hair, for it continued to whip about her face annoyingly in the hot wind. It was morning, but it was still hot. Katia didn't know where exactly they were, but William seemed to be an expert at navigation and whatnot, so she was forced to trust him whether she wanted to or not.

Their ship had docked in a small town nearest the ocean, and from there, after restocking their water supply, the two set out on their excruciatingly long (or at least for Katia) journey to Masyaf. True to his word, the Assassin and the young girl had arrived just before sunrise, which at first Katia had found splendid (because it meant not being on the ship anymore), but then finding it exhausting (for she had at least two hours of sleep prior to their stop). Katia's eyes felt droopier and heavier than ever, but the constant nagging in her legs and backside, as well as the hot sun above them, forced her to stay awake. She wanted nothing but sleep and her nice, cozy bed back in England.

"A few more miles, Katia, and we will arrive in a town just outside of Acre. From then, if we make haste, it should only take about another day before we get to Masyaf."

Katia sighed and took in deep breaths. She hated travelling, she thought grimly. Travelling meant being dirty and sweaty, and thirsty and exhausted. She didn't like travelling one bit.

After the next few hours (though they felt like years to Katia) when it had just moved to about mid afternoon and they saw the picture of what looked like a thick forest line, William suggested to stop and rest the horses as well as themselves, and Katia was more than happy to agree. With every passing second under the hot sun, she was becoming more and more sour. And she assumed that William could sense it.

They tethered their horses near a small creek and as soon as they were secured, Katia fell backwards into the soft grass under the shade of a large tree. She heard William chuckle at her but she took no notice as she bathed in the shade of the leaves above and the coolness of the grass below. Her jacket was too hot, so after a few moments, she threw it off and let the cool air hit her in places she didn't realise needed hitting. But she was too tired to care.

"Mmm," Katia sighed, closing her eyes. She heard William shuffling around her before she spoke up. "Let's make camp right here."

She heard a surprised noise from the Assassin. "Here?" he asked incredulously. "I thought you might've wanted to be in a town."

"No, this place is fine," mumbled Katia, feeling herself fall in and out of sleep as she listened to the water of the nearby creek. Her eyes felt glued together, and the whether seemed just right for her to be able to fall asleep. Not to mention the grass under her was comfortable. Who knew grass could be so comfortable?

She didn't know when it happened, or how, but soon enough she lost consciousness and fell into a deep, dark sleep.

She woke up about an hour later to William softly shaking her shoulder. She let out a small groan before sitting up, her back protesting as it winced from being in the same position too long. The sun had dropped dramatically and Katia could see it peeking just over the mountains in the very far distance. She noticed that the temperature had dropped too, so she grabbed her large jacket from where she had thrown it before and had it draped around her in no time.

William was crouching in front of her, and she noticed in surprise that he had changed his attire. No longer was he the young gentleman from England, with his black top hat and dark blue jacket. Now, he was an Assassin draped in red and blue robes, a beaked hood covering most of his face, his sword gleaming at his side. He looked as dangerous as an Assassin should look. Dangerous and mysterious. "Have a nice nap?" he asked, chuckling at Katia's surprised expression.

"Kind of," she mumbled. "It's cold now."

She looked around her, half expecting to see someone else, though not sure why she expected it. The forest was slightly shadowy around them, the trees and bushes rustling as if something was hiding within them. Katia shivered, feeling someone's eyes on her, before shrugging it off as nothing.

William nodded and she could have sworn he was smiling a little, though at what, she didn't know. "Its getting late, and when it gets late, it gets cold. That jacket should keep you warm enough, though. Its big enough to be a blanket on you." Katia forced a smile for the man, despite the nagging feeling of eyes on her. William cleared his throat. "We will make camp here, but I must scout the area to make sure it is safe." He chuckled when Katia raised a delicate eyebrow at him. "Bandits, remember?"

And then, after sternly instructing Katia to stay put and to not wander, and telling her that he would be back in a few minutes, the Assassin left the young girl, disappearing into the darkness and thick shrubbery. Katia sighed, feeling yet another shiver swim down her spine as she listened to the soft breeze and their horses quietly breathing and eating further towards the creek. She decided to brush off this feeling as nerves and, after a soft nervous laugh, she settled back against the tree, pulling the jacket close around her.

Katia was just beginning to wonder how much longer William would be when she heard a distinct snap of a branch come from the bushes, and she jumped instinctively. Now, she was sure that someone was watching her.

She could literally feel his cold stare all around her, and, her heart breathing rapidly, Katia stood up, looking around her surroundings. "Is someone there?" she demanded, though her voice shook. Of course, no reply came, but she did hear another movement in the grass, this time closer and on the opposite side.

"Show yourself!" Katia, who could hear her heart pounding in her ears, reached into her jacket and grabbed the hilt of her dagger, though she didn't take it out just yet. The attackers probably weren't expecting the young girl to be armed, so she used that to her advantage.

A moment later, three figures stepped out of the shadows, and Katia felt her stomach drop and then rise again. Three men, all wearing the same white robes but slightly different armour, were soon surrounding her. Immediately, Katia recognised their uniform, and the symbol that was attached to their robes, and her shoulders slumped in relief and her hand fell out of her jacket as she looked at the Assassins. She didn't know what they looked like as individuals, for most of their faces were hidden behind their cowls, but she did notice that one of them was much shorter and slighter than the others, so she guessed that he was probably the youngest.

"Ma'am, what are you doing here at this hour?" the man standing closest to her asked, a thick accent that she couldn't quite place in his tone. Katia cleared her throat shyly before speaking.

"Are you Assassins?" she asked quietly, looking up at the men under her thick lashes. She knew it was a dumb question as soon as it came out, and she thought, distractedly, _I don't want these words being my last_.

The middle man—not the one who had spoken, nor the shortest one—tensed visibly and made to step forward, towards her, before the man who had spoken stopped him with a glance. He whispered something to him before carefully stepping towards Katia himself, his hands going out in good faith when she stepped backwards—her back hitting the tree. "May I ask for your name, Miss?"

"No. But you may answer my question." Katia narrowed her eyes at the small group, and she could have sworn she heard a chuckle from the one whom previously tensed.

The man stopped in surprise, looking over his shoulder at the other two, before slowly shrugging. "I see," he said, taking yet another step forward, and Katia felt her nerves jump at the movement. "May I ask what you know of these so–called Assassins, then?"

Before Katia could reply, another figure jumped out of the bush, causing her to scream as the robed figure placed himself in front of her and the previous Assassin jumped back. After a shocked moment, Katia realised the figure to be William, and he was facing the Assassins head on with a calm yet dangerous look in his eye. "Brothers, we come bringing no harm," he said, raising his hands in surrender as the one who jumped back coiled to spring at him. "We are from England. My name is William Nornan, and I am a member of the British Assassin Brotherhood. With me is Katia Robin, a daughter of a very fine English Assassin seeking refuge in Masyaf. We have reason to believe that your Master is well aware of our coming to his home." He paused and slowly reached into his robes, protruding a parchment of paper. "I have a letter from your Master himself, should you not believe me."

Katia watched the exchange of papers and words carefully, still deciding not to trust them until she saw each of their faces. It wasn't until a few minutes later that the three strangers confided within each other, ignoring how William and Katia watched on suspiciously. "So they are Assassins?" she asked William quietly, turning to him.

William nodded. "Leventine Assassins, yes."

"And what are they saying now?"

"Probably deciding what to do with us."

"Oh, _so_ relieving." Katia scoffed, her annoyance growing as she watched the three men take their oh–so–sweet time deciding their fate. William seemed not in the least bit worried, which came as a small surprise to Katia. _He_ was the one being a worry–wart back on the ship because men were looking at her, was he not?

"What are they saying?"

"I don't have super-human hearing, Katia," William answered with a small laugh. Katia rolled her eyes at his response and glowered at the three men. She saw one of them glance back at her—the tallest one—and saw his lips slightly quirk up at her annoyed look.

"Welcome, Son of Samuel and Daughter of Elizabeth," the first Assassin finally said, handing the papers back to William and removing his cowl. His face was still slightly shadowed due to the lack of light, but Katia could see enough of him to know that he was quite handsome. He had a nice, structured face with pretty dark eyes and a kind smile. He placed a hand on his chest and bowed low, as a sign of respect. "My name is Amir Ahsan, and with me is my youngest brother Miah—" Amir gestured to the smallest Assassin, whom bowed his head toward them respectfully. "And next to him is Abbas Sof—"

"I can introduce myself, Amir." The voice came from the man Amir had introduced as Abbas, and his voice was a low growl, as if he wanted to say more to Amir but knew to keep his tongue still. Katia looked at the man; he was the man who tensed up and smirked at her. She disliked him already.

"My name is Abbas Sofian," said the man, not bothering to bow, and looking as if Katia and William were below him. "Son of Ahmad Sofian." He seemed proud, and Katia could only hope that that was not what she looked like when she introduced herself. Abbas looked arrogant and overly-confident, which greatly annoyed her.

"Charmed," Katia gritted out, forcing a small smile on her face toward Abbas. She then looked at Amir and Miah as William spoke.

"Brothers, I must ask for aid," he said, a little sheepishly, as Katia looked at the English Assassin in surprise. He purposely avoided her gaze, rendering her that much more suspsious. "I am afraid we have made a wrong turn somewhere throughout our journey, and I am helpless as to which way is Masyaf."

Katia felt her jaw go slack, and she pointed an accusing finger at William. "We're lost?!" she demanded, not caring that the other Assassins were there. "How can we be lost, William? We have been travelling in a _straight line_ , for Heaven's sake!"

William shrugged sheepishly at her, giving a nervous chuckle. "That's exactly the problem. We must have missed a turn..." He rubbed the back of his neck, "...or five."

Katia felt her patients wearing thin. "And when, may I ask, were you planning on telling me?"

"Well, in all honesty, I wasn't."

Katia couldn't help it. The urge to hit the English Assassin upside the head was far too tempting, so she reached up on her toes and whacked him, all the while glaring. "That is for being an imbecile!"

As the English Assassin grumbled under his breath, she heard Amir cough back a laugh. "We would be happy to be of assistance, brother," he said, earning an appreciative look from Katia. She felt more at ease now, like she could breathe a little more freely. And plus, she had three more Assassins accompanying them, which meant way more protection while they were on the road.

And it also meant that they were less likely to get lost.

Miah spoke after Amir, looking at Katia and then William. "You are on the right track to Masyaf," he said, surprising Katia with how low his voice was. "These woods flank Masyaf, in fact. So, in a way, you have just taken a shortcut. Masyaf is about half a days ride away." At those words, Katia felt relieved. So much for the "three–day ride," she thought happily.

She turned to William, grinning despite herself. "Good thing we ran into them, isn't it?" She flicked her red hair behind her shoulder and gave him a look. "Otherwise we would have been wondering around this God–forsaking country, lost, looking like a pair of misfits!"

As William rolled her eyes, Amir chuckled. "You two should rest," he said. "I can sense you are tired. You can make camp here, and Miah will stay here to watch over you while Abbas and I continue to patrol the area."

"I am more than capable of looking over Katia, friend," said William, not unkindly. But Amir shook his head slightly and pulled his cowl up.

"No, please, rest. We will take shifts to watch over you during the night, and tomorrow morning we shall personally escort you to Masyaf. You are the Grandmaster's guests, after all." Katia sensed the arrogant one—Abbas—roll his eyes under his cowl in annoyance but he didn't say anything. Katia rolled her eyes in his direction and began to walk away from the group, moving to the horses and unstrapping the bags tied to their saddles. Soon enough, she had a blanket and an apple freed from their bag, and she slowly munched on the apple, or in other words, her dinner, as she laid back down on the soft grass, bundling her jacket into a pillow–like object to sit underneath her head.

A moment later, she heard William chuckle and sit beside her. "The Assassins have gone now," he said. "Amir and Abbas are patrolling and making sure our part of the forest is safe of bandits and harmful animals, and the youngest—Miah—is now collecting water from the creek." Katia screwed her nose up in distaste.

"But that's dirty water."

William shrugged. "It's backup," he said, "in case our fresh water runs out."

Too tired to really care, Katia shrugged as well and yawned, scooting further into her makeshift pillow. "So...sleepy..." she mumbled, only moments before she fell into a blissful sleep.

* * *

The next morning, they woke before sunrise, but Katia felt much better–rested than she expected. The four Assassins, plus the young girl, set out on their trip quickly, only taking a couple of minutes for breakfast—pretty much just some bread and an apple for each—and another couple of minutes doing their own—ahem—morning business.

Katia had opted not to sit atop her horse, but instead walk beside it with its reins in her hand as she spoke to the Levertine men around her, asking all sorts of questions that spiked her interests. Living in England, she never really got out much, save for the few times she walked the streets and shops with her parents. Come to think of it, Katia never even really had friends, either. Mostly, the people her age that she interacted with were just children of her Mother or Father's work friends, and they were mostly all snobby, prissy girls or arrogant, sickeningly–flirty boys. Katia often longed for friendship—real friendship—that her mother and father had with one another. They not only were a couple, but they were best friends too. And Katia had always wanted that relationship with someone.

But, back to the present. The small group of five trudged through the forest, and Katia learnt quite a bit about the Assassin brothers. They were born in Egypt, Amir had explained, but the brothers had fled here when their village was raided by Templars and outsiders. Only he and Miah were able to escape, and they had been dreadfully young, too. After they fled, Amir joined with the Levertine Assassins, and was now on his way to becoming a fully–fledged Assassin. Miah was still but a Novice, only 14 years old, and the only mission he had ever been granted was to patrol the several routes that lead to Masyaf with his brother. Of course the young man complained, but he still agreed.

Abbas, on the other hand, was a different type of fellow entirely. Katia knew he was arrogant and proud from the moment she met him, but she wasn't expecting him to be so damn rude too! He flaunted his higher Assassin rank annoyingly, always cutting into conversations where he was not needed nor wanted. Always looking at Katia and William as if they were mere annoyances, and speaking to Miah as if the boy was a baby. Just the mere way he _walked_ seemed to aggravate Katia, and she noticed that William, also, was looking rather peeved toward the tallest Levertine Assassin.

"Tell me, Katia, what is it like in England?" the youngest Assassin asked as the group trekked through the green growth. Katia looked sideways toward Miah, noticing a slight twinkle in his eyes that were so similar to Amir's, even though they were under a hood. The youngest Assassin and the red–head had fallen back and had let the rest of the group walk slightly ahead of them. It was still morning, the sun only peeking through the tall trees, and Katia felt herself in a kind conversation with Miah.

He was kind, Katia found, though it was hardly a surprise. He was a lot like Amir. Cheerful, nice, and quite wise for a boy his age. Well, perhaps she couldn't go so far as saying wise (for along the walk, he had thought it would be a great idea to throw his dagger at a tree right beside William's horse, causing the poor creature to jump and almost throw William off), but he was definitely intelligent. And he was quite handsome for a boy as young as he.

Though, Katia thought she shouldn't go as far as saying handsome, either. More...pretty, really. Quite skinny, and obviously hasn't gone through that awkward stage yet, for she could see no facial hair upon his person. But he would grow, she knew, into a heartbreaker. The thought made her smile in amusement.

"England?" she asked, before shrugging. "It's busy, and very big. And in London, or at least where I lived, we didn't have any forests nearby, so it is much different from here. But maybe I think that because I haven't really been to any towns."

Miah chuckled. "The cities here are very pretty, I think," he told her, twirling his long dagger around his fingers proudly and expertly. "They are always full of colours and jewels and many, many spices. Even the people are colourful."

Katia smiled. "That sounds lovely. England was colourful, in a way, too. But the people were dull, besides the wealthy women." She snickered at the memory. "They enjoyed copying the French, the women did, when it came to style. Though I was hardly impressed with their clothing, myself. Too...extravagant."

Miah chuckled again, before they fell into a long silence. It wasn't awkward, really, but it wasn't comfortable either. Katia hated this feeling—the feeling where it wasn't exactly awkward but it was obvious that one of them had to bring the conversation back to life.

Katia was about to speak before Miah bet her to it. "Do you miss England?"

Katia thought of her answer carefully. In reality, she did miss England, but in her own way. She missed England because of the memories she had there, not the place in itself. She missed the rainy days when she was a girl where she would curl up in the drawing room beside the fire, her father reading her a story while her mother only half listened to it and watched the rain outside. She missed running around the maids legs, giggling as she stole an apple or a piece of cake from the kitchen. Katia missed going shopping with her mother when she was barely a teen, buying her pretty dresses and enjoying how the seamstresses goggled over her innocent beauty.

She hated how it all changed so quickly.

After a moment, Katia answered. "I don't miss England, exactly, but I do miss my family," she finally said, running a hand through her long hair. It fell down her back to her waist, and she knew without looking that brushing through the curls would be one hell of a job once she got to Masyaf. Her clothes were in better condition than her hair, but her boots were starting to show a few signs of wear.

"Ah, I understand," said Miah, causing Katia to half–turn to look at the young boy. His expression was blank, but she could tell that he was sad, or at least a small bit depressed. From the far–gone look in his eyes, she knew that he was reminiscing of a sad time long ago.

As if answering her unspoken question, the boy sighed and continued. "I don't miss Egypt, but I do miss all of the friends and family I had there. Before our village was invaded, I had many aunts and uncles and cousins that I played and spent time with. I miss them more than I could ever miss the place." Katia nodded in understanding, a sad feeling invading her chest. He must have been young, she thought, when he lost everything except his brother. Come to think of it, William had been young, too, before her mother had brought him under her wing. Perhaps that was the price one had to pay to become an Assassin, if they weren't already born into the life? It was a foolish thought, Katia knew, but she couldn't help thinking it.

As the morning slowly midday, Katia found herself continuously switching between walking and riding. She often offered her horse to each Assassin when she wasn't on it herself, but they had all kindly rejected. Well, Amir and Miah would kindly reject, whereas Abbas would simply scoff and walk even faster. They had passed many creeks and wildlife on their journey, but although those sights were pleasing to the eye, Katia often found herself slowly scowling in annoyance. She really hated just walking. It wasn't exciting, just tiring. She almost wished that a wild animal would cross their path, if only for a little action!

Katia turned her horse toward William's and leaned close to him. "How long is this going to take?" she asked him, frantically waving a fly from her face as it flew past her ear. She could feel muscles she didn't even know she had beginning to ache.

William shrugged, seemingly unaffected. "No idea, Katia," he answered. "But it's about lunchtime. We should stop and eat."

Amir heard the last part of William's speech and nodded from the ground. "William is right," he said and turned to his brothers. "We will stop and rest the horses and ourselves for a few minutes."

Abbas scoffed. "Don't be so weak, Amir." He pulled down his hood and Katia noted that he indeed was handsome, annoyingly. It was a shame that his personality made her often overlook his features. "We should walk on. If I am not tired, why should the horses be?"

"Because you are not carrying a bunch of heavy bags and a person, Abbas."

"It's not a matter of being weak," added William, already sliding off his horse and tethering her to a nearby tree. "It's a matter of being smart. If we continue on like this, our horses may die, and then we will have to carry the bags." He looked at Katia from the corner of his eye. "And it is us who will have to endure Katia's whining for the rest of the trip."

"Hey! I do not whine!"

William ignored this and instead chuckled to himself. Katia groaned as Miah chuckled along with him.

 _This is going to be a long walk_...

* * *

 ** _[A/N: Sorry if this chapter is going slow, but I'll speed it up very soon. Hopefully you liked this chapter enough to want to continue reading my story? Hopefully. Um, anyways, the next chapter will be longer, okay? Thank you for clicking, please review me your thoughts, or even just type a quick PM? Oh, and also, sorry if there are any spelling mistakes or anything like that.]_**


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Stubborn Red-Heads and Babysitters"

* * *

Altair was beside himself.

He was torn between helping the young Novice out and finally being able to call it a day, or letting the Novice continue his "sparring" with the higher–ranked Assassin and watch, bemused, as the Novice was thrown about the ring mercilessly.

Altair opted for the latter.

"Watch your left," he called to the Novice, but of course the young boy didn't listen to him and was, for probably the twentieth time in two hours, knocked to the floor by his opponent. Altair almost rolled his eyes. Drew rarely listened to the Master Assassin, which made Altair both irritated and amused at the same time. Irritated for obvious reasons, and amused because every single time Drew ignored Altair's advice, it always ended badly for him.

After a few more minutes of Drew looking foolish, Altair decided to end the match. The soldier released his grip on Drew's arm immediately and faced the Master Assassin, as calm and composed as an Assassin should be. Drew, on the other hand, just fell to the floor in short pants, his hands resting upon his hammering heart. Altair raised an eyebrow at the boy, but said nothing, and soon turned to the soldier.

"You are no longer needed, Bashir," he said, and the Assassin nodded, bowed, and stepped out of the ring.

"Of course, Altair."

As the soldier left, Altair looked at the sky. Judging from the sun, he could tell that it was about late afternoon. He was told to report back to Al Mualim on his nephew's progress around about now, and Altair was happy to bring the Mentor the bad news that Drew still hadn't improved. It was the only way he could make the young boy listen to him, for he wasn't allowed to actually _hit_ his pupil. Which Altair hated, of course, because everyone knew that the little trouble–maker needed some respect beaten into him every once in a while.

Altair sighed and made his way to the side of the ring. Drew was still on the floor, his blonde hair falling in his eyes, his uniform mattered and dirty. Altair could see that the boy had a bruised eye and a bleeding lip, but Altair couldn't care less. Drew didn't look up when he heard his teacher approach, but Altair was hardly surprised.

"I wonder how many beatings you will be able to endure before your pride cracks and you come begging me to help you," said Altair, leaning over the railing. He could sense the boy roll his eyes without looking at him.

"I am the nephew of the Mentor," the boy gritted out. "I don't _beg_."

Altair smirked under his hood, though he knew that the young Novice wouldn't be able to see. "We'll see."

With that, Altair turned and left, leaving Drew to sulk and lick his wounds by himself. He walked gracefully up the hill to the doors of the citadel, his white hood up and his face shadowed by it. Altair payed no heed to the men around him, whether they be Assassins or civilians, because why should he? They were below him, in rank and in life.

Altair strode through the citadel, his usual swagger in his step. His golden eyes that were always praised by the women around him shone under his cowl. He walked all the way to the Mentor's office, and was about to knock, before he heard a voice inside.

"...we found them in the woods, Mentor. They were lost, so we helped them by escorting them here." It was the voice of Amir Ahsan, an Assassin Altair only vaguely knew.

"Good," came the voice of the Mentor, gruff and old, like an instrument that hadn't been played in years. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Katia Robin. I understand that you will be staying here, among my men, for a couple of months?"

The response was quiet and soft, Altair could hear. It was a girl with a strange accent. "Indeed, Sir. That is what my mother wants."

"Your mother...the _woman_ Assassin?"

A pause. Then, "Yes."

Altair, as odd as that sounded to his own ears, decided to knock then. He knew eavesdropping was frowned upon. A Novice mistake. "Come in," came Al Mualim's voice, and Altair entered the office.

There were three people standing around the Mentor's desk, two with the colouring of the English and one with the colouring similar to Altair's. He guessed right; Amir Ahsan was standing between the two English people, his cowl pulled down to show his facial features.

Altair was vaguely familiar with the British Brotherhood. Well, not really, but he knew that instead of the traditional white or black robes that he wore, they wore blue or red robes. Sometimes both. This was the case with the Englishman, who stood with his back straight and turned away from Altair, his hEas turned in the direction of his companion, whom was looking at Altair.

This must have been the girl who the Mentor had addressed. Katia Robin, Altair guessed. She looked no older than probably 18, but he had to admit that she was an interesting little thing to look at. Definitely pretty, even Altair had to admit. She had the strange combination of long, wavy red hair, pale blue eyes, and a slightly freckled face. Altair couldn't recall seeing someone with features such as hers, and he also couldn't recall the last time he had seen a girl in men's clothing.

He managed to keep his expression blank, though, and looked away from the two strangers toward his Mentor. Al Mualim looked back at Altair, the same pride in his eyes as he always had upon looking at his favourite. Altair had always enjoyed being looked at by Mentor like this, ever since he was a boy. "Mentor," Altair said, bowing in respect toward his master. "Is this a bad time?"

Al Mualim shook his head. "No, Altair. In fact, this is a perfect time. I was going to call for you as soon as you had finished with my nephew. Amir, you are dismissed."

Silently, the Assassin bowed to his Mentor and left the room, walking past Altair without so much as a glance in his direction. Altair hardly noticed; it's not like he was going to look at Amir, either.

When the door closed behind Amir, Altair raised an eyebrow slightly, but the Mentor was already talking again. "Altair, allow me to introduce Katia Robin, the daughter of a very...respected English Assassin," he gestured to the young girl as she politely inclined her head toward the Master Assassin. "And beside her is William Nornan, a trusted...friend."

Al Mualim looked, strangely, uneasy. But one shared look between the Master Assassin and his Mentor, and Altair knew that they would discuss it later, when they were alone. Altair looked at the Englishman, William Nornan, and saw that the man looked no more older than Altair himself. Probably a few years younger, even. William Nornan nodded once to the Master Assassin, a gesture in which Altair did not return, before turning back toward the girl.

"Sir, I would like to express my thanks toward you for kindly sharing your home with us," she said, kind of surprising Altair by the sincerity in her voice.

Al Mualim smiled kindly at the young girl. "It is my pleasure, Katia," responded the old man before gesturing toward Altair. "May I present to you, my most trusted and skilled Assassin, Altair Ibn–La'Ahad."

Great, thought Altair as the Mentor introduced him. Now I have to acknowledge them.

Altair, keeping his cowl low enough to cover most of his annoyed scowl, nodded to the two English. He looked at his Mentor then, deciding then to inform him of his nephew. "Drew continues to show rebellion toward those who try to help him, Mentor. He doesn't listen to anyone, and is in no way improving his skills."

Al Mualim sighed and ran a hand over his beard. "Thank you for telling me," he said, and Altair nodded.

"If I could just discipline the boy harder, then maybe—"

"You mean beat him?"

Altair faltered, and for some reason he looked toward the girl. He found her looking back at him, though her gaze was unreadable. It almost annoyed him. He was an expert at reading people.

"I mean," Altair started, turning away from her and ignoring the redhead's burning gaze, "I believe that if we punish him more harshly, then he would show a lot more respect to those who are trying to help him and only want the best for him."

Al Mualim looked amused. "And do you want the best for him, Altair?"

"No. But you do." Altair was known well for his honesty, and the Mentor knew he wasn't lying when he said that he didn't care about the boy. To Altair, Drew was a mere nuisance. An annoyance. To Altair, Drew didn't have Assassin potential.

Al Mualim seemed to be in deep thought, the corner of his mouth looking like it was just about to twitch up in a smile. Altair knew that face. It was the face the Mentor did right before he gave Altair a mission. A challenge.

Altair felt the familiar rush of adrenaline at the thought of a challenge.

"Very well, Altair, I hear you," the Mentor finally said, crossing his hands in front of him. "I hereby relieve you of working with my nephew, since you seem to have such a problem with it."

"Not a problem, Ment—"

"William Nornan." The Mentor looked at the English Assassin, and Altair glared at him, already knowing what was happening.

"Yes?" The English Assassin looked at the Mentor in surprise.

"You will teach my nephew the way of the Assassin."

"I—wait, what?"

"William?" the girl asked the Mentor, jerking the thumb at the man. "He can't teach your nephew. He must stay with me. For protection."

Al Mualim smiled. "Your protection won't be a problem here, Katia Robin," he said, and then looked at Altair, making that same I'm–About–To–Give–You–A–Challenge face. "Altair will look after you."

Altair would have yelled at the old man if he wasn't his Mentor. He would have scoffed and told him that he would not, under any circumstance, look after the girl. He was an Assassin—the Assassin! The youngest Master Assassin, the most skilled, the most dangerous, the most respected!

He was not a babysitter!

Altair would have voiced all of these things, but the girl and the boy bet him to it, their voices toppling over each others.

"I was given strict orders to stay with Katia at all times—"

"I prefer to stay with William—"

"Plus, I don't think I'm the right, er, teacher for your nephew—"

"I am more comfortable with William. I barely know that man—"

"All due respect, Sir—"

Al Mualim raised his hand, and almost immediately the two fell silent. Altair was still glaring, though at what, he didn't really know. Perhaps he was glaring at the Mentor for making this stupid arrangement, or maybe he was glaring at the Englishman for taking his job, or maybe he was glaring at the girl because there was no way in hell he wanted to babysit her! He would rather train Drew!

"Children, please settle," Al Mualim said, and Altair didn't miss the look of scorn that both English had at being called a child. "Katia, I know that you have more trust in William, but here, we are all brothers and sisters. You are safer here than anywhere else. The Assassins are are brothers in arms, no matter where they are from, so if you trust one, you should have no problem trusting all. So despite Altair being the best, I need someone...different, to train my nephew, and William seems to be the right man for the job. You have trained Novices before, I believe?"

William was still surprised. "Well, yes, but—"

"The perfect teacher for my nephew." Al Mualim looked at Altair then, and was rewarded with an unreadable expression from the Master Assassin. "Altair, you have no problem taking care of our young guest, do you?"

Altair grumbled. "If it pleases you, Mentor, I will do it." The words were pretty much a growl, though it did little effect on the Mentor. Then again, not many things did have an effect on the Mentor.

But Katia was, well, pissed, to say the least. "Well, I can't pretend that I know of the loyalty in which you...brothers have with one-another, but I have to object to this arrangement. With all due respect, I feel more comfortable with William rather than an Assassin I don't even know." She casted a look at Altair. "I'm sorry, but—"

"Katia, hush." It was the Englishman, and his words caused Katia to stop short. She looked at the man, but Altair couldn't see William's face due to his turned back.

"William?"

"Look, we have intruded on these men's lives, and it wouldn't hurt by helping them out. We will still see each other often, and I will still look out for you from afar—"

"You're not seriously considering this, are you?" Katia looked astounded, and slightly betrayed, to Altair's eyes. "Did you not tell my father that you would look after me?"

William sighed and placed a gentle hand on the young girl's shoulder. Perhaps he was reading too far into things, but the touched seemed almost intimate, or at least as innocent as intimacy can get. "I will look after you when I am not training the Novice. You are safe, Katia. Don't be so afraid."

The young girl looked defeated. She slumped her shoulders and pulled her large jacket around her body tighter, looking at the floor. Altair could see the Mentor over the young girl's head, and he seemed to be pleased. He, as well as William, waited for the young girl's reply.

"Fine," she finally said, before looking up and glaring at William. Altair found it amusing. "And by the way, I am not afraid."

Altair almost sighed with relief. Finally the stubborn girl had come to her senses and ceased fighting against his Mentor. Altair couldn't recall ever meeting a woman as stubborn as she, and he hoped he never again came across another woman like—

But then Altair remembered: he would be the one to look after Katia. He was going to be the one to suffer just as much as Katia. The two had been fighting the same battle, though Altair was forced to remain silent on the grounds of respecting his Mentor, and just hope that Katia was stubborn enough to win.

Suddenly, Altair didn't feel as relieved.

* * *

 _ **[A/N: This is a really short chapter, so sorry about that, but I won't be doing chapters in Altair's point of view that much so I hope you got a good kick out of what he is like. By the way, if there are any spelling mistakes, just ignore them because this chapter IS NOT proofread. But I tried my best not to make any mistakes, so I guess there's that.**_

 _ **So, review or vote if you like?]**_


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Uri"

* * *

Katia sprung up in her bed, her hand going straight to her mouth to stifle her scream as she jolted awake from her dream. Her heart was beating faster than it had ever beat; she could feel it in her throat. Her eyes scanned the room for any signs of danger, still in her panic, and her voice was but one step away from screaming for her mother like an 8 year old.

However, when Katia realised that she wasn't in her England Manor anymore, and that if she did scream for her mother no one would come, she forced herself to calm down and take long, deep breaths. She ran her fingers through her knotted hair, slightly wincing at the pain of having her awkwardly–messy strands tugged at.

The dream—or more like the nightmare—was terrifying. Katia could still hear the monster's screams ringing in her ears, causing the girl to become unnerved and twitchy. And the eyes—golden, cold, and merciless—watching her in the shadows as she ran through endless corridors, away from the monster, the killer. She was running toward someone, a figure clad in white robes, calling a name that sounded foreign to her ears and that she could not remember. But with every step she took toward the figure, it seemed useless, for it was as if the faster she ran the further the figure was pulled.

Katia looked about the room, finally sinking against the pillows as thin trickles of sweat beaded down her spine. It was quite a large chamber, obviously one of the finest in the citadel. Her four–posted bed was situated right in the middle of it, and on each side was a drawer full of clothes with a large candle on top. A large and beautiful Persian mat was lain on the floor right in front of her bed, and across from that was a was a large divider screen. Beyond the screen was a bathtub, sink, and all of her pretty lady and washing essentials. On the west end of the room, she had a balcony that overlooked the bustling village below, and across from that was the door that led out into the corridor.

The chamber was beautiful, Katia couldn't deny, but she hated the feeling that it was not...home. Her own bedroom was small, messy, and the walls were almost to the point of peeling. Being in this large, open room was strange and foreign to her, and the girl doubted she could ever get used to such a...luxury. Of course, back in England they weren't poor, but they were humble with their money and only spent it when they needed it. Not to make Katia's room bigger or prettier, but for the essentials: a bed, a bookshelf, and books.

Katia sighed. Speaking of books, there seemed to be none available for her in her room. That was the only thing her chamber lacked other than the feeling of home: a bookshelf. And Katia loved books.

"Well, looks like there'll be no late–night reading tonight," Katia mumbled to herself, pushing herself further into the pillows for extra comfort. However, when she found she could not sleep, she simply sighed again and threw her legs around the bed.

Katia walked over to the balcony, opening the glass doors and stepping out into the cool night air. It was had a nightly chill, but it only brought small goose-bumps to Katia and nothing more. The scenery was beautiful: her room was right next to a large tower that overlooked beyond the walls of Masyaf, and beyond that tower was the village itself. She could see the courtyard below in which she guessed the Assassins trained, and further out into the distance, inside the village, she could just see the market area.

The stars shone clearly above Katia's head, reminding her of the very few nights back in England when she was able to see the stars. Because it was always so rainy and cloudy there, Katia never really see many stars from her house. She never thought twice of it, though, but now she marvelled at he beautiful sight. The billions of stars that were spread above her, and the moon that shone boldly yet gently.

After looking at the dark blue sky for a few minutes longer, Katia curiously turned her attention to the village below. It seemed quiet, still, but even at this early—or late—hour Katia could see the occasional straggler roaming about the streets. Though, because she was so high up, she only caught glimpses. The village of Masyaf was plain, but it still held a certain charm. Katia wasn't able to really look around when they first arrived, for Amir had almost immediately taken her and William to Al Mualim, so she silently made it her goal to know the village around her and interact with the citizens. Hopefully that would make her stay a bit more bearable.

"What are you doing up this late?"

The sudden voice—bored, slightly rude, and distinctly male—made Katia almost shriek and look skywards in surprise. There, sitting atop a ledge on the roof of the tower closest to Katia's room, was a man. An Assassin, donned in the traditional white robes, his hood drawn up to conceal his face.

Katia jumped at the sight of him and crossed her arms around her chest in an annoying sort of embarrassment. Her nightdress wasn't scandalous in any way, yet she could almost feel his stare linger down her bare arms, like a cold hand touching the back of her neck.

"Excuse me?" Katia whisper-yelled back at the man, bewildered at the newcomer. "Who're you?"

"We met earlier," he said bluntly, and Katia raised an eyebrow, thinking aback. She couldn't recall meeting another Assassin other than Amir, Miah, Abbas, and the Master...

Wait. Katia stopped short. There was another one, come to think of it...

"Al...Altair, am I correct?" Katia tried, struggling to think back on the man that had entered Al Mualim's office, that had been assigned to take care of her.

The man nodded once, briefly. An indication that Katia was right. "What are you doing up this late?" he asked again, his voice void of any emotion. Again, Katia felt the strange urge to cover herself in front of this man's gaze, as if she were showing too much skin.

"I couldn't sleep," she answered, struggling to peer at the man under his hood. It was to no avail, though; it was too dark, Altair was too far away, and she didn't really have good eyesight. She pushed her hair in front of her shoulder and twisted it between her fingers idly—a nervous habit.

"You must sleep," came Altair's voice, simple and straightforward. "The Mentor has asked me to take you out into the village tomorrow while your Assassin works. You will need your rest."

Though the thought brought her a certain joy, Katia frowned at the words "your Assassin." "William isn't my Assassin," she snipped, an air of annoyance about her. "If anything, he is but my escort and protector. Nothing more."

"Forgive me. I thought you were lovers," he muttered, leaning back on his hands. She was probably wrong, but was that a hint of a smirk that she heard in the Assassin's voice when he replied?

"Lovers? That's absurd." Katia scoffed, a gesture most unladylike. It was a good thing she hardly cared about being ladylike. "I only met William a few days ago, anyway. That's hardly enough time to become lovers."

Altair leaned further back on his hands, and Katia tried once again to peer under his hood, but it was proved useless. His face still remained shadowed. "A few days is barely anything. I know couples that hadn't met until their wedding day."

Katia raised her brows, as shocked as she was intrigued. "Their wedding day?" she inquired in disbelief, unconsciously leaning forward on the balcony. "That's terrible! Could that even be classified as love?"

Altair didn't answer, and Katia shrunk back in slight embarrassment at her enthusiasm on the topic. Of course Altair didn't wish to talk to her on the matter, she thought. "Um...So what are you doing up?" Katia pitifully tried, gazing at the quiet Assassin with fake interest.

"Al Mualim asked me to guard the city from the tower," he answered after a moment. He sounded annoyed, or at least as annoyed as one could sound while still coming off as emotionless. "Though I wager he only wanted me to guard you instead."

Katia raised an eyebrow. "Guard me?" she asked. "What ever for?"

"That, I do not know."

Katia didn't reply. Instead, she looked beyond Altair and toward the village. They were silent for a few minutes—Katia peacefully gazing toward the village and Altair quietly sitting with his legs dangling over the edge of the tower, appearing to not take his guarding job seriously. Katia pondered over his statement—"I wager he wants me to guard you instead"—before dismissing it as nothing but the Grandmaster's distrust in her. Perhaps he thought the girl would sneak out during her sleeping hours?

Katia was surprised when Altair broke the silence. "Where did you come from, and why did you leave?"

Katia considered lying to the man. She didn't owe him any answers, did she? She needn't tell him anything if she wished not to. But then, Katia realised how childish and silly she was being, and forced herself to say, "I came from England, if you cannot already tell by my accent. I left—sorry, I was sent away—because my life was in danger. My parents thought this place the safest."

Katia thought of her parents then, the two people she had only ever loved. She wondered what they were doing at that present time; were they sleeping, curled up in each others arms like normal married couples, or were they at the Assassin's bureau in Whitechapel, thinking up plans and strategies on how to end the threat? Katia did not know, and oh how she hated not knowing.

"I see." Altair's voice snapped the young girl out of her thoughts, causing her to look toward the man on the tower. He was standing now, and was leaning against the stone that jutted out along the edges of the tower. She wondered, idly, how he was able to stand so close to the edge and not be afraid, but then again, he was an Assassin. He had probably been taught to swallow any fear of heights from when he was a child.

Katia yawned. She didn't know what point her eyes had become droopy, but somewhere along the way they had, and Katia was glad. It meant that she would, in fact, have a better night sleep than she had thought. Well, she thought, I do deserve one. What, after all those nights on a ship and in the woods, one would think I deserved a good-nights sleep!

She looked up toward Altair. He had his back slightly turned to her, half-facing the village. "Goodnight, Altair," she called out into the cool night gently, giving the man a kind smile—even though he couldn't see it—before turning away and heading back inside her chamber. Katia didn't bother waiting for a reply, for she knew that the man would not grace her with one, so instead she locked the balcony doors behind her, walked over to her bed, and laid back down.

She fell asleep a few minutes later, the image of the endless stars in the night sky still printed upon the backs of her eyelids.

* * *

Katia awoke the next morning well-rested, hungry, and eager for the day. She dressed herself quickly, happy to be in a pretty green dress but partly sad that she could no longer walk around in trousers. They were an odd piece of clothing, but she loved how comfortable and easy they were to move about in. With trousers, one didn't have to worry about corsets or mud on the hemming or the legs being caught on anything.

She styled her freshly-washed hair nicely, looping the sides around her head like a halo and allowing the rest frame her face nicely. Katia loved the smell of the perfumes in her hair; apple and lavender. She also loved how the red in her hair reminded her of the tapestry in the drawing room back in England, and by looking at her hair, she thought of the man and woman depicted in it.

A knock came at her door after she had slipped on a pair of pale white flats. She walked over curiously, opened the door, and was graced with the very-tired-but-no-less-handsome sight of William Nornan. His hood was down, his hair a morning mess, his dark eyes still alight from last night's dreams. He wore his blue and red uniform, his black sash at his waist hanging limply and his black boots looking shiny and clean.

"Thought you'd be up," he said in way of greeting, smiling charmingly and clasping his hands behind his back. Katia smiled fondly at the boy, crossing her own bare arms across her chest. She was almost a head shorter than him, and hated that she had to crane her neck just to look at him.

"Of course," Katia replied, because that seemed to be the only thing one could say to that. "What brings you here? I was just about to find some breakfast."

William bounced on the balls of his feet, still smiling. His hark hair was sticking everywhere, though he seemed to care little. "Then I caught you just in time!" He held his elbow out to her. Katia raised her eyebrow, amused. "I shall escort you to breakfast, then." He wriggled his eyebrows, causing a small giggle to burst from the young girl. "That is, if the lady will let."

"Well," Katia sighed, faking superiority, "you _did_ escort me to another country. I _suppose_ it would be reasonable to allow you escort me to breakfast." She yawned and lazily held onto William's forearm as he looked down at her and chucked.

"I suppose that would be reasonable, too."

* * *

"I don't see why you can't just _ask_ for directions."

"Because we don't need directions, Katia!"

"Obviously we do, because we've been wandering around this blasted castle for _twenty minutes_ looking for the kitchen."

"I know where we're going."

" _Do_ you? Because from where I'm standing—"

"Here we are!"

The redhead glared at the chirpy Assassin to her left, pulling away from his arm and flicking her hair over her shoulder. _Why is he so stubborn?_ she thought privately as she pushed open the door to the "kitchen," not bothering to look if William was following her or not. _This was the reason we were lost upon coming here in the first place. All he could've done was ask for directions!_

Katia stepped inside the room, her nostrils overwhelmed with the smell of spices and foods, causing her stomach to growl. The room was huge, and calling it a kitchen was a little understatement. It could probably be considered a very, very large hall. Rows upon rows of wooden tables were situated in it, and in front of the tables was a canteen that was operated by many maids and servants. They stood behind a large table, cutting up meat and serving vegetables to the men that lined up holding plates and bowls.

Katia's eyes widened.

The room was packed with men and boys of all categories. Some looked like simple citizens, some looked like merchants, but most were dressed in the white Levantine Assassin garbs. She even saw boys who looked no older than 10 with daggers in their belts forking their food hungrily. It astounded her.

" _Miss Robin?_ "

A voice at her elbow startled her and she looked around before coming face-to-face with a familiar looking 14-year-old boy.

"Miah!" she said in realisation, offering the boy a warm smile which seemed to make him blush. "Good morning. I did not expect to see you here."

Miah smiled back under his hood, a small dimple biting into his cheek as he did so. He had dirt smeared across his cheek, and Katia felt the urge to wipe it away with the sleeve of her dress. It was strange, that feeling; she had never interacted with anyone younger than she, and she felt oddly protective over this young boy.

 _Well_ , she corrected herself, _not protective. But very...concerned._

"Of course I would be here," said the boy, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "This is the diner. Where everyone goes for the morning feast."

"Morning feast?" Katia chuckled. "Where I'm from, we call that breakfast."

Miah raised a brow, watching her in confusion. "Break-fast?" he asked. Katia smirked nodded mysteriously.

"Indeed." Miah looked at her with what seemed like confusion cross amusement, and Katia could only laugh. She felt a presence appear at her side and smiled at William.

"William, you remember Miah." She gestured toward the boy, catching William's attention as he looked around suspiciously. He smiled kindly at the boy and clapped his shoulder.

"Indeed," he said as Miah returned his friendly smile. "How could I forget the young boy who saved you and I from days upon days of wandering the woods lost?"

Miah beamed with pride, his brown eyes lighting up at the comment. "Ah, but as I said, you were on the right track. You just didn't know it!" he said modestly, causing Katia to chuckle behind her hand. It was plainly obvious that the boy enjoyed the praises that William had given him, but the gentleman in him remained modest and humble.

A tap came at her shoulder, and Katia turned her head to look at William, who looked back at her with what looked like mild concern. "This is were the Assassins go to eat," he informed her, causing her to cast another glance around the room. "We are only guests. I don't think we eat here."

Katia frowned and looked toward the canteen, her stomach growling. "Then where are we supposed to eat, hm?" she questioned, placing a hand on her hip like she always did when William forced her to ask dumb questions. "What, are we just supposed to starve?"

Near her elbow, Miah spoke up. "I could take you to the guest dining room." Katia beamed at the boy.

"Excellent. Lead the way."

As the two followed the young Assassin out of the double-doors, Katia looked at the dining room once more. Not one of the 100-or-so men acknowledged them, so they were able to make their entrance and departure unnoticed.

Well, by all but one. Katia didn't see, but a certain man sat at the far corner of the hall, watching her closely under his beaked cowl, his golden eyes glowing.

* * *

Their journey only took less than five minutes before they met a large set of double, oak doors and their nostrils were invaded with delicious scents that made Katia's stomach growl. They stopped outside of the door, Miah raising a hand to knock three times before stepping back and looking at them. He turned to William, a sly look on his face.

"A word of advise: No matter what Maja cooks, eat it," he said, as slyly as if he knew of a secret that no one else did. Katia raised an eyebrow before the boy continued. "She is a strict old lady and she will be very insulted if you don't—"

The door opened and Miah was silenced as the trio turned their gazes upon the woman holding the door, a wrinkled scowl on her face. She wore an apron that was probably once white, and a pale blue dress underneath. She looked straight to Miah moodily as Miah beamed up at her.

"Assassin!" the old lady snapped, and Katia was surprised to hear that she spoke with a very dominant English accent. "What're ya doing here? Back to steal some more food, are ya?"

"No, Maja," Miah replied, bemused, as if there were something funny. "It wasn't me who stole from your kitchen. Drew did it."

"The Mentor's boy? I don't believe none of that." She pointed a finger at the young boy, to which only caused his smile to grow. "I saw you poking around in the wine cellar, young man. Don't think I don't know."

Katia raised a brow at the exchange in front of her, catching William's eye in the process. He was looking at her worriedly, as if saying "I would rather eat with the Assassins than with this old hag." Sighing, Katia stepped forward, placing a kind hand on Miah's shoulder (who had meanwhile been given a long lecture about stealing and rudeness and such) and flashed the old lady—Maja—a polite smile.

"Hello, ma'am," she said, curtseying respectfully and catching the attention of her. "My name is Katia. Katia Robin. And this is my friend William Nornan—" She pulled William by the sleeve, causing the boy to force a charming smile and bow to the lady.

Maja smiled, or at least did something as close to a smile as she could get. "Ah, you must be the English that arrived here yesterday," she said in her deep, gruff voice. "I heard of you from the servant girls. A pleasure to meet you, Miss and Mister. My name is Mrs. Dane, but you may address me as simply Maja. I am the cook."

Maja stepped aside and gestured for the two to step inside the diner. Turning her chin politely to the lady, Katia walked into the reasonably-sized diner with William at her heels. Miah made to follow them before Maja stopped him.

"You ain't a guest, boy," she snapped, causing Miah to roll his eyes. "Get back to the men. Go fatten yourself up."

Katia casted a glance over her shoulder at the boy, but Miah was smiling with mischief all the same. He caught Katia's eye and waved at her. "I'll be off, then," he called. "Perhaps I will see you—"

Maja slammed the doors in his face, scowling as she turned and forced a smile at the pair.

"Such a nuisance, them boys are," she muttered.

* * *

After their breakfast, Maja cleaned up their plates and left them quietly to themselves. The dining room wasn't nearly as large as the hall in which the men had their "morning feasts," but it was lovely and warm. It was a modestly-large room with red and gold as its main colour, a high ceiling and a beautiful chandelier of gold. A grand table sat in the middle of it, with high-backed, comfortable chairs of many positioned around it. Though, the only people who accompanied the table were Katia and William. They had sat in front of each other and eaten in silence, but now, when Maja had finished collecting their plates and wine glasses, Katia was staring at William as he stretched his long legs under the table.

He looked at her. "What?"

"When are you to be training this boy?" she asked, no colour or interest in her voice. She made it seem like she didn't care, when in reality, she was buzzing.

William peered out the window, as if the sun could give him the answer. "Now, I would assume," he answered, cracking his knuckles and causing Katia to wince at the noise.

She didn't say anything after that, and so William sighed. "You're mad," he said, like a statement. Katia scoffed and gave the Assassin a look.

"Why would I be mad?"

William rolled his eyes, but she could detect a smirk on his mouth. "You feel like I'm abandoning you. Which I'm not."

"Are you not leaving me in the hands and care of a complete stranger?" Katia couldn't help the ice that laced her voice. William only rolled his eyes again.

"Altair may be a stranger, but he is a Brother. He will take care of you as I would." He paused. "Plus, he is higher ranked than me. He is a Master Assassin, Katia. He can protect you even _better_ than I. _Not_ that you would need protecting in a place as secure as this," he was quick to add.

Katia huffed and leaned back in her seat. There was no point in arguing over this, seeing as William would just continue to say the same things and they would get nowhere. It wasn't really the matter of protection that concerned the girl, but just that she was familiar and comfortable with William more than Altair. From the small amount of things she had picked up about Altair, he seemed only like a moody, arrogant Assassin who would probably rather throw himself off a cliff than babysit her.

But then, could she blame him?

William stood up, pushing back his chair and causing her to look up. "I guess its time to be going," he said.

"And what am I supposed to do?"

"Come with me." William smiled. Katia just scoffed. "I'm to meet my new pupil at the training ring. Altair is waiting there, so when I go with the boy, you go with him and do whatever you want."

Katia sighed and got to her feet. "Its strange how comfortable you are with this," she snipped over her shoulder as they walked to the door. "I wonder what my mother would say."

William chuckled nervously.

* * *

If Katia could describe the Master Assassin in only one word, it would be this:

 _Insufferable_.

The first time she had met him, back in Al Mualim's office, he was distant and, honestly, a little rude. He filled the air around him with a sense of superiority and coldness, similar to that of Abbas when he had helped in escorting them. Altair was arrogant, Katia could tell from the moment she met him, but Katia could deal with arrogance. She could tolerate a man who was too proud for his own good. She was taught how to handle that, ever since she was old enough to receive attention from the opposite gender.

What Katia couldn't handle, however, was a _quiet_ man.

It was draining. She was so used to talking that when there was even a minute of complete silence, she felt too conscious and her hands got clammy and she felt itchy and annoyed and awkward and messy. Her mother used to say that the reason she liked talking was because she had a grand imagination, and sometimes it was so grand that the words were too much and they had to spill everywhere they could. That her brain could only hold in so many thoughts that soon those thoughts would just tumble out of her mouth whenever it opened, filling the scratchy silence that Katia oh so hated. Father once said that she spoke a lot because she was never really around people her age, and once she was in a conversation, she had to get everything out at once before it ended, just in case she didn't get another chance.

Personally, Katia liked her Mother's theory over father's.

But perhaps that was just her mother's kind way of saying she was a chatter-box.

When William and Katia had made it to the courtyard in which the men trained, Katia didn't know what to expect when they saw Altair and his ex-pupil, Drew, sparring together in the ring. Was she supposed to pretend that she and Altair hadn't had a conversation about strange marriages and her reason for coming? She was unsure.

But it didn't matter about whether or not she should acknowledge it, because it seemed like Altair was in no mood for talking anyway.

They walked in silence through the market, Katia looking around in silent wonder while Altair glared at everything. She tried to ignore the sneering face under his hood (which seemed to clear a path for them in the busy village and keep many people away) as she enjoyed the liveness and wonder going on around them. They were in the heart of the village, Katia knew, because everywhere she turned there were people shouting from behind their stalls their goods and merchandise, from beans to meats, from jewellery to linen. There were men selling weapons and fine daggers to women with cloth covering all except their eyes saying that they could read your future. It was a place of wonder, so different from England. Katia only wished that she had money to purchase some things for herself, like a pretty comb with jewels dangling from it, or a silky green scarf that was so unlike the one she was forced to wear on—and that she had thrown off—the ship.

The only thing ruining her experience was a certain man in a foul mood.

Katia turned to Altair as they passed a man and his crying son, her brow raised. "Are you always like this, Sir?" she wondered aloud, catching the Master Assassin's attention as he finished glaring at the crying boy.

"Like what?"

Katia giggled behind her hand, noticing how his golden eyes seemed to narrow even more under his hood. "You look as if you will rip someone's head off if they so much as talk to you."

Altair's face remained expressionless. "Maybe I will."

"Maybe you will," Katia agreed, swaying happily in her stride as she walked past a young girl selling flowers. Altair scoffed.

"And yet you continue to talk to me."

She turned around and faced him, a smile playing around on her lips at the man's sour tone. Altair was no doubt dangerous, could no doubt probably rip her head off if he so pleased, yet she felt the childish urge to tease him. He looked like he needed a laugh. "I'm not scared of you," she said, peeking up at his shadowed face. "In fact, I am one hundred percent sure that if it came down to it, I could take you." She laughed and wriggled a brow, but if that had any effect on the Assassin, he didn't show it.

"You, an inexperienced girl who is not even taller than my shoulders, who has spent her days in England sucking on a silver spoon and probably hasn't held even a table knife in her whole life, think you can match me?" Altair scoffed, though it still seemed to sound charming. "Don't make me laugh."

Katia giggled. "Well said, Sir," she applauded. "But something tells me that you don't laugh."

"Do you ever stop talking?" he snapped. Katia laughed again and looked away from the man.

"I'm just trying to bring some joy to a rather boring tour!" she said, skipping in front of the man, holding her dress between her fingers so as not to trip up. She stopped suddenly, a wide grin gracing her face, and spun to look at the man trailing behind her. " _Oooh_ , what is that I hear?"

Before Altair could even think, Katia darted off toward the beautiful sound that was drifting through the air. Above the bustling and shouting all around her, a single tune caught her ear and she ran towards it in awe, her blue eyes searching the crowd as Katia pushed past men moving donkeys and women carrying pots. Ignoring the protesting and rude shouts behind her, she weaved through the market quickly. She knew that she had lost Altair the moment she took off, and was partly glad that she had. The moody man would probably scare the musician away with his nasty scowl.

Smiling idly, Katia moved through unknown backstreets and alleyways, still following the music. The market was behind her now, the music in front. It grew louder and louder the closer she got, a sweet sound drawing her nearer and nearer...

Katia halted when she turned a corner, finding herself at a brick wall. Dead end, she thought in disappointment. The music had stopped; now it was silent, and she felt rather foolish standing there staring at the wall. It was a small space, with only a well sitting in the middle of two buildings and the wall. _Abandoned_. Sighing, Katia turned away—

And a boy stood in front of her, ragged in cloth and sandals that looked as if they would fall apart any second. He had his hands behind his back, his face almost a mask of dirt and grime. He was tall, reaching almost up to her shoulders, but was so incredibly thin and sickly-looking that Katia had to hold herself back from gasping at the unsettling sight.

"Hello," she said softly, after a startled pause, bending her knees to be eye-level. The boy looked no older than eight. The music was all but forgotten.

His eyes—a bottomless pit of brown chocolate—widened and moved to the floor. "This is my place," he said so quietly that Katia struggled to hear.

"You live here?" she asked, frowning. The boy nodded.

"This is my place, Miss," he repeated, louder this time. "You can't sleep here. _I_ sleep here. You must find somewhere else."

"Sleep here?" Katia looked around and found that, indeed, there were signs of the boy's sleeping situation. Behind the well was a single ratty blanket. She shook her head. "I will not sleep here. I sleep in the citadel."

The boy looked up at her with wonder. "The palace?" he asked, scratching his head with his thin fingers. "Are you a princess?"

Katia ignored this and moved onto the more pressing matter. "Where are your parents, dear?" she asked, as gently as she could.

"Dead, Miss."

"Who takes care of you?"

The boy blinked. "Me, Miss. It's just me."

Katia felt her heart swell with sorrow, but before she could say anything more, a shadow loomed up behind the boy. She would have reacted negatively if she didn't recognise the shadow's white robes and assortment of weapons.

"Ah, Altair," she said dryly, "so nice of you to catch up and join us."

Gasping, the little boy turned around and looked up at the Master Assassin once, before running behind Katia. He gripped her dress in his fingers while he peeked out behind her.

Katia didn't blame the boy. Altair did not look happy.

"You ran off!" the Master Assassin barked, shaking with anger. His hood was up, but Katia could see his eyes glowing in the darkness. She simply raised a brow.

"Thank you for noticing."

Altair continued to glare. He reached out and yanked her upper arm roughly, causing her to stumble. "Tour is over. We're going back. _Now_."

"Get your hands off me!" She dug her heels into the ground and, using the arm the Assassin did not hold, Katia reached under her skirts and retrieved the blade that had been strapped to her thigh. Remembering the few lessons her mother had taught her many years ago, she used Altair's weight—and surprise—against him by spinning them around and slamming him against the wall, the blade only inches away from his throat.

Behind them, the little boy squeaked.

Katia stared at the man, and saw that his hood had slipped down and his whole face was on show.

He was beautiful.

His face was tanned light brown, with strong cheekbones, a straight nose, full, unchapped lips, and a sharp jawline that looked as if it could cut someone. His face was looked smooth and free of hair, and a faded scar ran vertically up the corner of his top lip. His eyes—not quite golden, but not quite amber either—were the most dominant feature on his face. So hard and so bright, always alert and always searching. Like a hawk, or an eagle.

He was glaring. Katia blinked, a small twinge of blush colouring her cheeks. She prayed he didn't see.

"Don't touch me ever again, or you will find your hands removed from your body before you have time to contract your wrist blade."

Altair said nothing, just stared down at her with an expression in which was unreadable to Katia. The young girl smirked and leaned up on her toes, next to his ear. "You are a fool to think that I had never handled more than a kitchen knife, Assassin," she whispered lowly. "Do not forget: my mother is the best English Assassin that ever lived. Do not make the mistake of underestimating me simply because I am a girl."

She pulled away, concealing her mother's dagger within her skirts again. She glanced down at the boy—Katia had almost forgotten he was there—and then back at Altair. She set her jaw and said, as casually as if she was talking about the weather, "We are taking him with us."

Altair looked up at her. His hood was still down, his face still in full view, but he was scowling. He didn't even look at the boy. "We cannot," he said. "The Master would not allow it."

"And have you asked the Master of this _specifically_ , Sir?" Katia pressed, placing a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder. Altair's glare deepened.

"You have hardly been here a day and you are already trying to set rules?" He looked down at the boy in barely-controlled disgust. "He is a street-rat. This boy will barely last the year."

Katia knew that the words would have stung the boy, so her eyes narrowed at Altair as she took the boys hand. "What is your name, dear?" she asked him, soothingly. He had been staring at Altair with fear before he looked at Katia.

"I...I cannot remember," he stammered.

Katia gave him a soft smile. "Do you remember what it started with, at least?"

The boy thought for a moment. His fingers were clasping and unclasp ing together in thought. "I remember it sounded something like...Uri..." He sighed and shook his matted hair. "I cannot remember, Miss. I'm sorry."

Katia smiled in kind. "It does not matter. We shall call you Uri, if that does not bother you." The boy shook his head.

"No, No—doesn't bother me at all, Miss." The boy—now known as Uri—smiled happily. It was a small smile, one that was there but not quite, but it was enough to show Katia his gratitude. It seemed as if he was unpracticed in the art of smiling—something that broke Katia's soft heart—but nevertheless, it looked adorable on him.

She looked back toward Altair, her eyes challenging yet teasing. "He needn't train in your type of work," she said. "He could be a stable boy. Or work in the kitchen." She sighed, her eyes softening. "He cannot remain on the streets, Altair. Please. We must take him back with us."

The Master Assassin studied the girl for a few moments. Her heart pounded in her chest under the intensity of his gaze, the feeling of his eyes locked onto her made her shiver. He wore no expression on his face, though—she couldn't tell if he was considering it or simply didn't listen to her at all. It annoyed her, of course, that she couldn't read his face. She was determined to leave with Uri—she wouldn't take no for an answer. Who knows how long he would be able to survive by himself? Although Masyaf was the Assassin's stronghold, there would always be crime and danger in every backstreet of every village.

And she wouldn't be able to look at herself in the mirror if they left Uri and he wound up dead.

Uri seemed to be holding his breath, too. He had stayed silent throughout the whole exchange—save for when she had spoken to him personally. Katia was unsure whether he even wanted to go with them or not, but then, he was a little boy with no one to take care of him. From his sleeping arrangements, as well as the state he was in—all grime and dirt and thin limbs—Katia would wager that he probably hadn't eaten or had a good sleep for days.

Altair's face remained emotionless when he, surprisingly without anger or annoyance, said, "He can come. But the boy will be under your watch until Al Mualim says otherwise."

Katia's face lit up, and she turned to Uri with glee. He was watching Altair with a strong kind of respect and fondness that made Katia's heart swell. "A-Are...you sure, Sir?" he stammered, as if he couldn't quite believe it. He walked and planted his feet in front of the Master Assassin, and only then did Altair look at him. Like, really look at him.

"I...I don't know what to say," the boy continued. "You...would you really allow me to stay in the palace?"

Altair took a moment to speak. "You won't be staying there for _free_ , boy. You will work and earn your keep. One sign of trouble from you and you will find yourself back onto the streets."

And then an instant later, without waiting for Uri's reply, he walked straight passed the boy and Katia. He didn't glance back at her—nor did he show any signs of stopping—so, hiding a grin, Katia grabbed Uri's hand gently and followed after the Master Assassin.

* * *

 _ **[A\N: Hello! I apologise for the rushed spelling and all, but I wanted to finish this chapter before bed, and I haven't gotten around to editing. I know, risky. But, alas, I won't fret. I'll proof read it soon. You know, eventually.]**_


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

"Practiced Smiles and Roses"

* * *

The walk back to the castle was unpleasant, to say the least.

Uri clung onto Katia's hand, and though she did not mind that he found comfort in her, she found the feeling of the boy's sweat and dirt that coated his palm quite distasteful. He was a tall lad, the top of his head almost reaching her brows, and as she looked at him, she started to second-guess his age. At first glance, he looked about 9 or 10, but now that Katia drunk in his boyish features, she was forced to consider the age 13 or 14. And from the way he spoke—so quiet, yet his vocabulary was quite advanced for a boy that had been living in the streets—she found herself wondering when exactly he had been cast away. Did he grow up from a mere pup as an orphan, or was he thrown onto the streets just recently?

What ever the reason, it must have been a long time for him to forget his own name.

Altair, on the other hand, was deathly silent. He had pulled his hood up and concealed his features, but Katia knew he was furious simply by the setting of his shoulders and his clenched fists. Okay, so perhaps throwing and ordering him around in front of Uri was a hard blow on the man's pride, but come _on_! He didn't need to become all moody and angry just because of that!

During the walk, however, when she saw that he was in no mood for talking, Katia simply sighed and left the Master Assassin to his moping. Instead, she had turned to Uri and struck up a conversation.

"Uri," she said, and the boy in question looked at her, "before I arrived at your...er...sleeping place, did you hear any music?" Katia idly recalled the whole reason she had stumbled upon Uri in the first place. The question had slipped from her mind until now.

Uri smiled that same smile he had smiled before—a little broken, as if it hadn't been there for a while—the dirt around the corner of his mouth cracking. "That was me, Miss," Uri said quietly, shyly. Katia raised a startled eyebrow at the boy.

" _You_ were the one playing that beautiful music?" she asked, partly in disbelief. She pushed her red hair behind her ear as it slipped in front of her face. Uri only shrugged.

"I play the flute, Miss," he said, and reached into his shirt and retrieved a small thin object. He held it tightly, as if afraid Katia would take it from him. She was willing to wager that this was the only thing he had.

"Where did you learn to play such beautiful notes?" she questioned in wonder.

"I...My sister taught me," he simply said after a flat moment. Katia raised her eyebrows, about to inquire further, when she noticed the boy's face become stony and guarded. She decided not to press the matter, because he obviously did not want to talk about his sister, and Katia wouldn't want to upset him and pry into something that wasn't her business.

She was about to change the subject completely, in fact, but the Master Assassin beat her to it. He didn't look at the two behind him as he walked ahead, but he spoke loud enough so that they heard him without a struggle.

"When we get to the Citadel, boy, you are to stay close to me and not wander," he said coldly, and Katia felt the urge to snap at him for sounding so rude. She didn't, however, fearing that it would push the Master Assassin into an even fouler mood. "Do not speak unless you are spoken to, especially if you are in the presence of the Mentor. You are to be respectful to whomever addresses you."

"Of course, Sir," Uri replied simply, keeping his head high but his eyes low. Katia sighed, absently pitying the boy, and caught the attention of Altair.

"And as for _you_ , I want you to remain inside the citadel," he said, turning his head slightly to Katia. She was about to open her mouth for a sharp retort before he simply held up his hand. "This is not up for discussion. You have proved to me that you need more watching than even this boy when you ran off. I cannot bring him to the Mentor and watch you at the same time, so while I am busy, you will stay inside the castle where you are less likely to cause trouble."

Katia huffed in annoyance, turning her nose up at the man who had slowed down his stride and was now beside her. She hated him talking to her as if she were but a child. She may be young, but its wasn't like Altair wasn't young either. Just because he was a Master Assassin didn't mean that he could boss her around as if he were her _superior_.

 _Then again_ , a small voice inside Katia's head muttered, _he_ is _a man. A man who can kill you in probably a thousand different ways if tempted._

"I thought I had proven that I did not need watching when I overpowered you and held a blade to your throat..." Katia found herself boldly muttering nonetheless, loud enough for Altair to hear. Uri seemed to not be paying attention at all; he was looking out towards the distance as the citadel's huge, strong gates came into view.

Altair turned and shot Katia a glare under his hood, to which she struggled to shrugg off. "I can assure you that _that_ will never happen again," he growled. The young redhead fought off a shiver at his cold, almost deadly tone, and kept her chin high. They were almost at the gates now; she could see two Assassin's standing guard at the foot of the gate, as well as an archer above it, his bow perched over his chest dangerously.

Katia noticed, with a start, that the archer was none other than Abbas Sofian, the arrogant, rude man who had helped escort Katia and William to Masyaf.

Katia moved back to stand behind Altair as they reached the gate, pulling Uri to stand beside her. The two Assassins standing guard took one look at Altair and opened the gate wordlessly. As they passed through, Katia could almost feel Abbas' eyes on her. Despite the cold feeling creeping up her bare arms, she refused to look up at him and forced herself to keep a calm and composed face. The last thing she wanted was Abbas thinking—or rather, _knowing_ —he scared her. There was just something about him...

They walked through the front courtyard of the citadel in silence. Uri was looking all about him curiously, although he kept his head low and averted his gaze respectfully when someone—even a mere maid, in one instance—walked by. Obviously, Altair's previous words had done a number on the boy. He seemed much more careful and sure-footed, as if he was afraid that one slip-up may be his doom.

Katia would be lying if she said she wasn't scared of the same thing in his case.

"I trust you know your way to your chambers."

Altair had stopped when they had made it through the entrance of the citadel, and finally turned to acknowledge Katia. Surprisingly, Katia found that the entrance was almost deserted of any other people but them. The cool, marble floor beneath them was littered with strewn books and random papers, and the high walls were situated with bookshelves and statues and weapons. Before her, two staircases stretched upwards in a spiral; one leading left, and the other leading right. Katia knew that the left one would take her to her room, for she had taken those same steps with William the day before, and she wasn't one to forget things easily. She knew the exact route to her chambers in the Ladies' Quarters, but found herself pouting when she looked at Altair.

"And what am I supposed to do in my chambers, may I ask?" she huffed. "Just sit and stare at the wall? Count the floorboards? I would rather drown myself in the bathtub."

Altair stared at her in annoyance. Uri, coughing, moved to stand behind the Master Assassin. His eyes stayed to the floor. "Do what ever it is that girls do in their chambers," snapped Altair. "Fix your hair, knit a scarf—you should have some supplies for that in the chest under your bed."

Katia threw her hands up in the air. "Knit a scarf!" she repeated, sighing. Altair stared at her a moment longer (Katia suspected he was contemplating killing her right then and there, it wasn't as if there were any witnesses besides Uri) before simply turning on his heel and stalking away. She watched him go in clear annoyance, Uri trailing a respectful distance behind him before they both walked up the stairs on the right hand side. Within a blink of her eye, they were gone.

 _Right_ , Katia thought, standing grumpily in the middle of the entrance with her arms crossed, staring at the staircase. _I'll knit a scarf, or just play with my hair the rest of the day. Oh! And, seeing as I will be staying here for another few months, I'll just continue that every single day of the week! How_ fun _would that be!_

* * *

To say the least, Katia did not spend the remainder of the day knitting or braiding her hair. Nor did she spend it counting the floorboards or drowning herself in the bath in her chambers. In fact, the girl did not visit her chamber even once.

Instead, she wandered the halls and nooks and crannies of the citadel. She had nowhere in particular to go, and it's not like Altair had given her orders to _specifically_ go to her chamber anyway. Hell, even if he _did_ , it's not like she would have listened to him in the first place. Katia strolled through the corridors quietly, thoughtfully, and curiously. She walked passed rows upon rows of huge tapestries that hung from the walls, many pictures depicting many different things. Most of them were of men, dressed in the Assassin white, leaping off impossible heights and into the fray of their enemies. They were beautiful things, these tapestries, and each of them reminded Katia of the lone tapestry she had back home, hanging in her mother's secret office, along with many other priceless Assassin treasures.

As Katia wandered, she not only took note of the many tapestries, but also the different rooms and people scurrying around them. Mostly just maids and Assassin Brothers, but the rooms that she passed baffled her. She passed a greenhouse on the south end of the citadel that, she was told by a passing Brother, housed not only a wild range of flowers and plants, but incredible and lethal insects that the Assassins used to produce their poisons. She passed a blacksmith shop that made the weapons and gear, and right next to that was an infirmary. She decided against peeking into that room; from the horrendous groaning and cursing coming from within, she guessed that she wouldn't want to know what was going on in there.

After about a half hour, Katia—finally—found her way to the garden. It had taken a while because one had to walk all the way up three flights of stairs to the roof of the citadel to find it. It was quiet she noticed when she pushed through the glass doors. Save for the soft sounds of the grasshoppers and other insects hiding within the beautiful flowers and bushes, nothing else could be heard. She deemed _this_ the best place within the citadel she had visited so far. Huge wasn't even the correct word to describe it; it was massive. And beautiful.

Because Masyaf was constructed along the mountainside, it merged in with the rock and Earth that it sat upon. The castle itself blended into the steep cliffs and mountain rock, almost invisible, as impossible as that sounded, and the town below looked like a simple merchant village. From afar, the town was nothing significant—in fact, from the dull stone-and-clay houses, the quiet people, and the lack of colour from the outside, it didn't even seem like one worth stopping at. The castle was pretty much invisible to the eye unless the sun reflected off one of its windows and caused a spark, or one already knew it was there.

 _Hide in plain sight_.

It was genius, really. Using a part of the Assassin's Creed to build their stronghold, their sanctuary and birthplace. It had always been a mystery to the young girl how so many Assassins—her mother included—could hide so easily within nothing. It was a skill, she supposed. A skill that she would never understand.

Katia moved along the roof, feeling her hair lift as the slightest breeze whispered through her. The garden floor was covered in a fine, thick layer green of grass, with small pink and yellow flowers sprouting out everywhere she looked. Her feet hovered over four-leafed-clovers, her nose smelt the sweet aroma of jasmine and roses, her ears picked up the sound of a soft waterfall nearby. In the middle of the garden, within the flowers, was a tall white pavilion. She made her way toward it. _They must have a gardener of some sort_ , thought Katia as she bent over the ledge of the pavilion to gently touch the petal of a blood-red rose, her fingers careful of the thorns. _Things as beautiful as these don't just sprout and take care of themselves_.

The pavilion was empty on the floor, but she could hear birds chirping in the corners of the roof high above her head. Katia smiled slightly—she guessed there was a nest somewhere up there, filled with little eggs and two parents to protect them. She craned her neck upwards and saw that her assumption was right. There, lodged cozily between two wood planks, she could see the tail of a small bird along with sticks sticking out. Katia grinned again, and focused her attention back on the rose bush. She reached out and ran her fingers gently over the crimson petals, carefully stroking the stem of one that particularly jutted out—

"Are you quite done yet?"

Jumping out of her skin, Katia yelped and spun around toward the flat voice. Her hand fluttered to her chest, her long hair whipping herself in the face with the force of her spin. Standing within the once-empty entryway of the pavilion, his hood up to conceal his features, was the Master Assassin.

"You scared me!" she yelped, though it came out as a strangled whisper due to her shock. She could almost _feel_ the man frowning.

"I thought I told you to go to your chambers," Altair muttered back, his voice matching her own annoyance. His hands were at his sides, his shoulders slumped. Katia wondered how long he had been standing there.

"Actually, you _suggested_ I go to my chambers," she replied evenly, resting a hand on her hip. Her heart still thrummed in her chest, though she had managed to calm it some. "You didn't technically _tell_ me to go there."

"You wouldn't have listened even if I had."

The girl gave a small smile. That's exactly what she had thought.

Altair was silent for a moment, causing the girl to feel uncomfortable. It was moments like _these_ that Katia hated, and it seemed that Altair was always having these quiet, still moments with her. Inwardly gulping, Karia opened her mouth to talk before he beat her to it.

"You're bleeding."

Startled at his strange choice of words, Katia peered at the man in confusion before looking down at her body. "No I'm not—"

Altair walked forward until his feet were planted in front of hers, though he kept a modest distance in between them. He reached out and grabbed Katia's hand, the one that had been touching the rose, and held it eye-level with him. Raising a brow, she was surprised to see that she _was_ bleeding. A thin, yet deep slice of red adorned the length of her index finger, the blood slowly making its way downwards. She stared at it with a strange mix of confusion and fascination.

"I didn't even feel..." Katia trailed off as Altair took a water skin from the inside of his robes, uncapping it and tipping the liquid on top of Katia's finger. Letting go of her arm with his other hand, he protruded a small, white cloth from his sleeve and gently stroked it over her wound. Immediately, the cloth bloomed red like a flower, but Katia was too busy staring at Altair to really notice. What was he _doing_? Why was he helping her? Tending to her wound like so? Katia would've expected the Master Assassin to simply scoff and walk away, or at least throw her the cloth and make her clean the blood herself, or perhaps even leave it be altogether. It was just a scratch, after all—not even that; a _prick_. But no; Altair was _washing_ the cut for her, he gave up his own water to cleanse her of the blood. It was a small thing, yes, but for _Altair_ to do it?

He was almost being... What was that thing that Katia had never seen him be? Oh, yes. _Nice_.

"I must have cut it on the rose," she whispered, more so to herself than Altair. He simply nodded and they fell into a few moments of complete silence, the only sound coming from the restless birds above their heads.

"I suppose you would like to know the outcome with the boy," Altair said eventually as the silence grew, his voice void of any feeling or warmth. She blinked up at him once before his words finally registered into her brain, and her heart leaped.

"I would," Katia replied, her gaze hopeful. From this angle, she could see under his hood, and though his face was somewhat shadowed, Altair's strong, prominent features were clear to her eyes. His face was blank, absolutely no emotion in it whatsoever. A chill ran down Katia's spine and she quickly looked back toward her hand.

 _It's a shame he is so emotionless and stoic most of the time_ , she thought, not for the first time that day. _He is quite handsome, and would look even more charming with a smile_. She almost sighed. _He must have a nice smile_.

 _But then again, maybe it is a good thing that Altair was so cold and moody_ , another voice in her head stated. _It would be hard to mess with him and tease his sourness if he wasn't so bitter. It would most likely cause me to turn into a foolish, giggly girl._

"Because of the state the boy is in," Altair continued quietly, snapping the girl out of her strange thoughts, "the Master said that it would be wise for him to spend a couple of weeks in the infirmary, just to get his health up and to make sure he isn't carrying diseases." He paused when he caught Katia's mild glare at this, and his voice grew somewhat softer, though Katia could have just imagined that. "It is very possible, Katia, what with him living in the streets."

"But...he _is_ staying, yes?" She looked up at him as he finished dabbing her finger—she didn't realise that he had been applying some sort of ointment to it. He put the tiny bottle in a secret pocket in his robes before letting go of her hand, stepping away in the process.

"Al Mualim wouldn't just...abandon him, would he?" she continued as she looked up at him, running her fingernails through the ends of her hair. "The boy is barely a teen yet. Barely out of childhood."

"Al Mualim is a strict man, I will not lie. If the boy doesn't show promise when he recovers—if he proves to be useless, or disrespects Al Mualim's rules in any way—he will be thrown back out onto the street." Katia flinched at the harsh words, and she sent out a silent prayer to Uri. She really hoped that it wouldn't come to that for him.

"But...he is a child..." she whispered in a quiet sort of sadness. She looked away from the man and down at her finger. It shined from the newly-applied ointment, and the slice was visible, but it no longer leaked crimson or stung.

Altair was silent. Katia could feel his eyes on her but she didn't want to look at him. It wasn't that she was mad or upset with him in particular. No, she didn't hold any ill feelings toward the Master Assassin regarding Uri's conditions at all. After all, it was _Altair_ who gave him a chance and brought the boy to the Grand Master. He could have just said no to bringing the boy to the citadel and dragged Katia away, but he didn't.

A cool breeze blew by Katia, and she wordlessly turned around and stared at the rose bed growing next to the pavilion. Altair watched her, ever silent, as she leaned down and picked a rose. She held it between her two hands, her fingers placed along the spaces between the thorns.

"Are you okay?" Altair said, a strange tone she did not recognise hidden in his voice.

She was surprised that Altair would ask such a thing. She didn't think that he cared.

"You needn't worry yourself over me," answered Katia, peering down at the rose. "I am fine. I just hope that Uri shows promise. If he ends up being thrown out..." she trailed off quietly.

"Would you like to see him?"

At that, Katia turned around and looked up at the Master Assassin, surprise clear on her face. Why was he showing her such kindness? Why now? Just a few hours ago, Altair was nothing but a cold, moody man who obviously thought himself higher than everyone. But now, out of nowhere, he is _kind_?

"Yes, I would," she answered nonetheless. Altair nodded once silently before turning, gesturing with a jut of his chin for her to follow.

Katia twisted the red rose between her fingers anxiously as they walked through the candle-lit halls of the citadel. She kept her head down, her eyes staying on Altair's boots so as not to lose him. She didn't know _why_ her mood changed so quickly, or why she felt so small and quiet all of a sudden. Especially in the gardens. Katia supposed that Altair wasn't the only one with mood swings; she was just as worse.

They finally came to a halt in front of the infirmary, a room that Katia had seen a few hours ago. Altair opened the door and—surprising her yet again—held it open for her to step in first.

 _Who knew he could be a gentleman_ , Katia thought as she passed him, giving Altair a smile along the way.

The room wasn't as large as she thought it would be, but it was long, in a sense. Cots were stationed next to each other along the far wall, across from the entryway. A table was set up next to each cot, some occupied and but most not. Only a few people were on the cots while doctors flew from patient to patient. No wailing was heard, nor were there any curses being spewed from the injured men. In fact, it was very quiet. Almost eerily.

Katia lined her sight along each cot before her eyes came to a stop at one. Uri lay on it, looking somewhat scared, as a man leaned over him and held a vial over his face. They seemed to be arguing. Uri's face was upturned in a scowl while the doctor's only looked frustrated.

"...boy, you must drink it," the man was saying as Katia and Altair drew nearer. "It will help with the stomach pains so you are able to eat better without feeling like knives are being stabbed into your gut."

"From the way it tastes, I would rather the knives," retorted Uri, his face a look of disgust as he quickly closed his lips to avoid the vial being tipped in. Katia chuckled and the doctor and boy looked up as they approached.

"Miss!" Uri smiled a full-blown smile and he jumped out of the bed—almost knocking over the doctor in the process— and slammed into Katia. She gasped, more out of surprise rather than the impact itself, as he wrapped his thin arms around her waist and hugged her. After a shocked moment, she giggled and gently placed her arms around the young boy, returning the embrace. She was careful to not let the thorns of the flower touch him.

"Uri, I do hope you are not being bothersome for the doctor," she said softly, smiling at said man over Uri's head. "He is only trying to help you."

Uri looked up at the girl, his arms still wrapped around her. "He is trying to poison me!" he exclaimed. The doctor huffed at the boy, but Katia only chuckled and, finally, they let go of each other. Uri looked to her left and bowed to Altair.

"Sir," he said quietly, eyes downcast. Altair didn't respond, causing Katia to sigh inwardly.

"Uri, please take what the doctor is giving you," she tried, but the boy shook his head defiantly.

"It is horrid! The first time he gave it to me, I threw up!"

"That is because you held it in your mouth and refused to swallow," chided the doctor, standing and nodding to Altair in respect. "Altair."

"Mohammad, I thank you for putting up with this boy," Altair said, speaking for the first time. He gave a look of disapproval to Uri. "As ungrateful as he can be."

Uri flushed. Katia sighed looking at the Master Assassin, and then got an idea. She turned to the doctor and held out the rose, a soft, practiced smile on her face.

"Please accept this as my thanks," she said extra-sweetly, and this time, the man flushed. He slowly lifted his hand and grabbed the rose as his cheeks tinted red.

"I—Oh, it was nothing," he stuttered under her sweet gaze. She chuckled.

"To me, it wasn't," Katia told him genuinely, before she shifted her gaze to the vile in the hand that didn't hold the rose. "May I take it from here? I do not wish to offend, kind sir, but I think it would be much quicker and easier if _I_ had Uri take the medicine."

As expected, the man wilted under her innocent gaze. He murmured incoherently and hastily handed the vile over, his ears glowing red, and muttered something about tending to the other patients before scurrying off. Katia smiled at herself, pleased with herself for pulling the trick off flawlessly. Her mother would have been proud, had she witnessed it herself. It was a trick she had learned from her mother, after all, considering Katia refused to learn how to fight unless it was self-defence. Elizabeth deemed it fit to teach Katia, her only daughter, how to use her charm and innocence to make a man bow down to her without having to lift a finger.

 _"In a world such as this, where a woman is only considered useful when she is in the kitchen, bedroom, or tending to the children, we ladies must learn to fight without weapons or knowledge of war,"_ Elizabeth had told Katia, once a long time ago _. "We must learn to fight_ without _fighting. We must learn to fight not in the way that men do, but in a completely different, unique way. A lady's way. A man fights with his fists, a woman fights with her eyes. It is a lesson seldom taught to girls, but it is a skill that will bring any man to his knees. Once you perfect it, daughter, you won't_ need _to learn how to fight, because you will already have a thousand men behind you willing to lay down their lives just for you."_

Smiling to herself at the memory, Katia turned to Uri, and found him along with Altair staring. She blinked at Altair. "What?"

She thought she could almost see a shadowed smile underneath the hood. "How did you do that?"

She feigned ignorance. "Do what?"

The Master Assassin seemed to frown. "You know what."

"Just a little trick," Katia shrugged before turning to Uri. "Come on, hop back up on the bed." He did as he was told and sat at the head of the cot cross legged. Katia sat in front of him as Altair leaned against the foot of the cot.

"Now, open your mouth," she ordered, and as she expected, the boy clamped his mouth shut stubbornly. Squaring her shoulders, Katia looked Uri straight in the eye. "You can either open your mouth and drink this, or I will get Altair to pry your lips open himself while I force it in. He will hold your lips shut until you swallow every last drop, and if that means swallowing your own throw-up as well, then so be it."

Uri stared at her, a mixture of defiance and mortification in his dark eyes. He looked down at the vile, and then slowly to the Master Assassin standing at the foot of the cot. He seemed to be weighing his options out.

"Is there a...third option?" he asked weakly. Katia sighed—and then _another_ idea made its way into her devious red head.

"As a matter of fact, there is." She turned and threw Altair a quick, cheeky smile before making her face stony once more. She said, "How about this: I will count to five, and I will tip only a little bit of the medicine into your mouth. You then swallow, and we repeat. Before you know it, the vile will be finished, and then we can finally move on."

She waited patiently for his answer. In truth, either answer would be amusing for her, and she didn't mind making Uri the "butt" of her joke, as her father used to say.

Katia felt the air pressure change from behind her and then she was suddenly aware of someone standing directly behind her. "I imagine there is a devious reason behind these options," whispered Altair, his voice very close to her ear. Katia fought back a shiver and turned her head slightly to the side, towards his face.

"Specifically the last one," she murmured before turning back to Uri. After a few more moments of him contemplating, he finally looked over to her and sighed.

"I guess I will go with the last option." He sounded unsure, and Katia almost rolled her eyes at the boy's pettiness. How bad could the medicine possibly be?

She uncapped the vile and moved closer to the boy. He stared at her, wide-eyed, and she couldn't help the cheeky smirk she gave him. Katia played the smirk off as a simple scoff so as not to make the boy suspicious.

"Are you ready?"

Uri nodded and closed his eyes, parting his lips slightly as he waited for Katia's count to five.

"One..." She threw Altair a look and whispered, "Get ready," before looking back to the unsuspecting Uri.

"Two..." Altair silently moved around to Uri's side, waiting for Katia's signal.

"Three..." She reached over and tipped the entire contents of the vile into Uri's mouth, holding his chin still as he flinched, his eyes shot open, and he tried to move backwards. A few drops dripped down his lips but Altair held his chin firmly upwards to make sure the liquid spilled down his throat and not down his chin.

"Swallow it," Altair ordered and after a few moments, Katia heard the boy gulp. Altair slowly let him free, and immediately Uri looked to Katia, a shocked fire in his eyes.

"You said you would count to _five_!" he said, his face twisting in disgust as the taste of the medicine still lingered in his throat. Katia giggled, not feeling in the least bit guilty as she probably should. The look on his face was too funny for her to feel sorry. She looked over and saw that even Altair had turned away as his shoulders moved up and down slightly. She couldn't believe it; was Altair _laughing_?

"But it's over now," Katia said, still secretly looking at Altair from the corner of her eye, "so it doesn't really matter what I said—"

"It was disgusting! It tasted like horse shite!"

"But did you die?" Katia muttered sweetly. "How do you know what horse shit tastes like? Have you had it before?" Katia laughed at both male's expressions in her saying 'shit,' and was about to say something more before a sharp, stony voice sounded from behind her.

"The Master has requested your presence immediately," it said coldly, and both Katia and Uri turned to the figure behind them. It was an Assassin, tall and lean as most were, but he was looking at Altair. Or perhaps " _looking_ " was the weakest way to describe it; he was glaring daggers.

Katia was shocked at the sudden change of mood—from happy and funny to tense and cold in one second flat. But she was even more shocked at the fact that the new Assassin standing before them only had one arm. His sleeve was bunched and tied up at his elbow, where the stump was.

"Malik. I wasn't aware that you had returned from Jerusalem so early," Altair replied evenly, seemingly unaffected by the other man's sharpness. No longer was Altair the kind, silently-laughing man. He was now back to the previous, emotionless Altair.

"And I wasn't aware that you cared so much of my whereabouts," retorted the man named Malik tightly. "But then, I must be mistaking your ' _care_ ' for nosiness, considering you care not for anyone but yourself."

 _Woah. Is he for real?_ Katia's eyes widened at the man before she looked back to Altair, and found that he was staring back at Malik. _Something must have happened between them personally for them to be so tense_ , she observed privately.

Without a nod, or any indication at all, really, Altair moved forward and shoved his way past the one-armed man. Malik glared daggers at his back as he departed, and Katia was _almost_ going to stay quiet, but something in her drew her toward Altair as he flew through the doors.

Katia bit her lip—once, twice, then grazed her tongue over her bottom lip—before her chest sighed and she rose from the bed, racing after the departing man. She caught Altair in the hallway, his white robes billowing behind him as he strode passed the candles lighting the hallway.

"Wait!" Altair stopped walking and turned around as Katia raced to catch up to him. She halted right in front of him, her red hair falling across her forehead due to her rush.

"What is it?" Altair huffed impatiently, his voice almost sharp. Katia faltered.

"I...I just wanted to say...uh..." Her cheeks flushed red as she stuttered and stumbled over her words. God, what was her excuse again?

"You wanted to say 'uh'?" snapped the Master Assassin, amusement lacing his tone. "I should be surprised. But then again, it's not like _that_ would be the stupidest thing you have said today."

Katia rolled her eyes and glared at the man before her. "No, I didn't want to say—" She sighed in annoyance before starting again. "I wanted to thank you, actually. You know, for doing what you did with Uri."

Altair reached up and pulled his hood down. Even though Katia could see his face perfectly, the moment his hood was no longer shadowing it, it was as if seeing it again for the first time. His straight nose, the slight stubble on his jaw, the silver scar that ran up his lip. His face was tanned, though she guessed that it was a natural tan that had nothing to do with the sun. His full lips were pulled upwards in a smirk, reminding her again how handsome he was. His eyes alone was enough to have a woman weaken, but to have his the rest of his face—his dark eyebrows, the sharp jaw, even the somewhat charming scar on his lip—was just _unfair_.

It was strange—almost scary—to Katia how taken she was by just his looks. It wasn't as if she hadn't seen a handsome face before—many had tried to court her back in England, and she did have William, too. But Altair was for some reason...different. Whether it was because his Arabian features were so different from her English features, or because he was so cold and distant that Katia may have pitied him, or if it were because of an entire different reason all together—she wasn't sure. And she wasn't sure she liked it, either.

"You didn't exactly give me much choice in the matter," Altair spoke, unconsciously snapping Katia out of her thoughts. His golden eyes were narrowed, but he didn't look angry. Only...mildly confused.

"You could very well have denied me and dragged me back to the citadel without him, though. But you didn't. And I am very thankful."

"I could have," he agreed, raising a brow, "but then I would have had to deal with the whining and squealing from you the whole way back. You talking is enough to drive any man halfway to insanity, I could only imagine you _squealing_."

Katia knew that he was teasing, and she knew that she did deserve a little teasing from the way she teased him on her 'tour.' She rolled her eyes at the man before waving off his jests, placing a hand on her hip.

"For your information, I do not _squeal_ ," she told him. "I shout. Or, if the occasion is especially scary, I may even scream. But I do not squeal as if I am but a child throwing a tantrum." She shook her head and inwardly groaned. _Thrown off track again_ , she thought.

"Anyway, I just wanted to thank you and then let you go." Katia gave the man a one-shouldered shrug and turned around, flicking her red hair over her shoulder and jutting her chin up in the process. As she walked, she heard Altair mutter something behind her, so she stopped and looked over her shoulder.

"Say something, Altair?"

The man in question just shook his head and pull the corner of his lips slightly to the side. It wasn't a smile exactly, more of a smirk than anything, as if something about the whole exchange amused him.

Katia exhaled sharply and, with nothing left to say, continued walking.

* * *

 ** _[A\N: Ooooookaaaaaaayy, and thats a wrap! I'm sorry about the delayed update, I really have no excuse for it other than the fact that I had a huge writer's block and could not think of a way to end this chapter. However the fact that I do have a path in which I want this story to go, it doesn't mean that I have the exact details of each chapter down. I mean, some chapters I do, but somehow I still end up changing my decision half-way through the chapter and end up writing something completely different!_**

 ** _Anyway, enough rambling from me, and let us get down to the important stuff._**

 ** _Thank you soooooooo much for the reviews you have given me, as well as the lovely and kind PMs! It honestly brings me so much joy when I hear that people are liking my story, because at the end of the day, this story is pretty much my own thoughts and ideas. So it is refreshing and flattering when I hear that people enjoy reading them!_**

 ** _Anywhoooooo, please try to ignore any spelling errors in this chapter and just kindly PM me about them, because I really tried my best with them but it is kind of hard to spot out all of them when there are, like, 6000+ words! Also, if you don't understand anything about my story—if I failed to describe something properly or whatnot—just simply comment or PM me about it! I would be happy to explain it to you personally through your PM.]_**


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